


Lakritzwolf's Birthday Big Bang

by Lakritzwolf



Category: Being Human (UK), The Almighty Johnsons, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Angst, BOTFA fix it, Bodyswap, Consensual Incest, F/M, Fluff, Foreign Language, Gen, Incest, M/M, Modern day AUs, Other, Pegging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-08 01:03:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 30,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5477333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lakritzwolf/pseuds/Lakritzwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I made a fic giveaway for my birthday and this is what came out of it. Thanks to all the prompters!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. FiKi

**Author's Note:**

> milliegirl20:  
> Fili is having his first art gallery showing [For this Artist/Athlete AU](http://lakritzwolf.tumblr.com/post/119514289282/prompt-rollerblades)

The move to the new house had been one of the best ideas Fili and Kili had ever had. Now that Fili had his own studio and wasn’t scattering paint, papers, sketchbooks and other equipment throughout the house he could focus. And he focussed a lot.

Sometimes, Kili had to come to the studio and remind him to eat. Like today.

“Come on, I made raspberry scones.”  
Fili lowered his paintbrush and tucked a strand of hair behind his left ear. “Hang on a minute.” He leaned back and added a few strokes of black to the outline of the face he was working on, then slid the brush into a glass half-filled with water. 

He swivelled around on the small footstool he used for painting, and Kili had to laugh. “You’ve got paint on your forehead.”  
Fili got up and grinned. “What colour?”  
“Have a guess.”  
Fili squinted upward and waggled his eyebrows, making Kili burst into laughter. He failed to get a glimpse of colour. “Red,” he ventured finally.  
“No, it’s black.” Kili held out the plate to him. “Kinda looks like a Chinese tattoo.”  
Fili snorted and helped himself to one of the scones. “I swear...” He sighed with pleasure and licked a crumb of white chocolate off his finger. “If we weren’t already married I’d propose.”

Kili was laughing so hard he almost dropped the scones because he couldn’t keep the plate straight any longer. 

Fili elbowed him in the ribs and placed a kiss onto his cheek.  
“I thought you wanted to work on your sculptures today?”  
“Yeah... I meant to.” Fili took another bite. “But then this bugger came along. I swear, sometimes my mind is worse than a popcorn machine.”

Kili put the plate down and walked over to the large table under the window. Several sculptures in various states of production were lined up there, made from mesh wire and papier-mâché. Zodiac signs, a paper note in Fili’s chicken scratching said, weighed down with a stone onto which the artist had painted a smiley face with wiggly moustache braids.

“Are these supposed to be finished for the exhibition?”

When Fili didn’t answer Kili turned around to find his spouse look at the sculptures with darkening eyes. “Yes. Supposed to.”  
“Anything I can do to help?”  
Fili shrugged. “Inspiration Manifestation,” he said. “I hope I get down to it again when I finish that fucking portrait my brain insisted couldn’t wait.”

Kili looked at the easel and whistled. “That’s Bilbo!”  
“Yes, I know!”

They shared a grin.

“So, think you can finish your stuff?”  
“I hope so.”  
“Anything I can do to help?”  
Fili walked over and slung his arms around Kili’s waist. “Keep the housework out of my hair.”  
“I’m doing that already,” Kili said and turned around to be face to face with Fili.  
“I know.” Fili pecked a kiss onto his husband’s nose. “Keep up the good work. I don’t take you for granted, promise.”

They sealed it with a kiss.

* * *

Fili was nervous as fuck. It was Friday afternoon, and he was standing in the foyer of the city library together with the mayor and a few other council dignitaries. There were three young artists in all, and even if it was only a library and not a proper gallery, this was his first showing and a major step.

So far, Kili had always been the major bread winner in the family. Fili had made art, wrote freelance and jobbed as a barista. And now...

This might be the turning point of his career. 

They had renovated the barn opposite the house and built in a lot of skylights, and now it was only waiting to be filled with Fili’s creations and be called a gallery. 

He had sweaty hands during the mayor’s speech. Fili was the last of the three young artists he introduced, and after the polite applause from the gathered audience and a few press guys, the doors opened. 

Fili immediately took up position next to the row of sculptures. He had chosen his best works to be displayed here; his pastel landscapes and the abstract works, and then there were the zodiac sculptures. Each one was about the size of a grown cat, and he had poured all his heart and soul into them. They weren’t life-like, not anatomically so, but that wasn’t what Fili had in mind. He had tried to capture the very essence of the signs, and today it would show if he had been successful.

About five minutes after the opening, Kili showed up with a crestfallen face and sincere apologies. Fili didn’t blame him, he knew Kili’s crazy work schedule and that he would never have come willingly or carelessly late.

“It’s okay, babe,” he said softly. Then he winked. “You can still get me a coffee from the bar.”  
“On my way.” Kili smiled before they exchanged a quick kiss.

Fili was idly wandering around admiring the other artists’ creations, sipping coffee and listening to the conversations.

And when he turned back to his displays, he saw the owner of a gallery he had fruitlessly tried to sell his art to on several occasions eying his zodiac sculptures. He took a deep breath and walked over.

“Can I help you?”  
He looked up at him, then his face lit up. “Why! Mr Durinson!”  
“Nice to meet you again, Mr Thranduil. I’m impressed you even remember my name.”  
“Oh, I don’t forget easily.”

Fili smiled politely and watched as Thranduil inspected the sculptures. 

“Virgo,” he said and reached out. “May I?”  
Aware of Thranduil’s status and his profession, Fili allowed him to pick it up.  
“Fascinating.” He turned it around in his hands. “Solid and light at the same time. And it’s... alive, somehow.” He smiled at Fili. “These are unusual, Mr Durinson. And I quite like them. How much?”

Fili had lost a lot of sleep about the pricing. He didn’t want to price them too high, not as long as he was an aspiring and unknown young artists, but he also didn’t want to sell himself short. 

Thranduil didn’t bat an eyelash at the price. “I’ll take them.”  
Fili blinked like an owl. “All of them?”  
“Well it wouldn’t make much sense to buy only one, would it?”  
“Depends.” Fili managed to smile again. “If you want only your own sign or the set to decorate the house.”  
“Oh, I don’t want them for myself, Mr Durinson. These will get a special place in my gallery.”  
Fili felt like fist-pumping and yelling. Instead, he smiled and nodded. “I am honoured.”

Thranduil nodded and smiled, then indicated with his outstretched hand, palm up.  
“Interesting feature you have there, Mr Durinson.”  
Fili knew what he meant. “I know. Everyone can do the Dhali-look. My husband calls me Catfish, and I’m still trying to come up with a more charming name.”  
Thranduil laughed softly. “It may not be charming, but it is a rather distinctive.”

They settled the deal, and Fili felt like he could fly. His work would be displayed in one of the city’s largest and most renowned galleries. 

Kili rewarded him with a kiss. 

And quite some more once they were home again.

They then moved all of Fili’s finished works into the barn and Fili spend the next three days arranging and re-arranging everything.

Outside, at the fence, the sign was already up:

The Barn Gallery, Philip Durinson.

A week later, an elderly couple knocked at the door and asked for a tour.


	2. FiKi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> linane-art  
> Two badass dwarves and pink fluffy yarn
> 
>  

The winters were cold in Ered Luin. Winters in the mountains were always cold, of course, but Ered Luin lay at a high altitude and there was a lot of snow each winter. 

Having to go hunting means needing very good equipment and clothes. Kili was always bundled up to his ears because he ran a little cold. Fili was not as prone to freezing, but cold feet could be a great hindrance in stalking the deer, and even be dangerous. Frostbitten toes going gangrenous were a real risk.

Neither Fili nor Kili were aware of the fact that both of them had talked to Dori about warm knitwear this winter. While their mother was capable of knitting, she hated it with a passion and since her sons were pretty self-sufficient they bought their knitwear rather than trouble their mother about it. And Dori...

Well. Dori loved to knit. It wasn’t a secret, it was more or less his craft, even if there were a lot of people wrinkling their noses at that. Knitting was what women did on winter nights, some said. Others said that it didn’t matter one whit if it was a dwarrow or a dwarrowdam doing the knitting. 

But since Dori was not to be trifled with in a tight spot, none of the grumblers grumbled too loud.

After all, everyone needs warm underwear in the winter.

Fili was visiting Dori because of the need for new socks and Dori welcomed him warmly and offered him a cup of tea. Not that Fili was overly fond of chamomile, but he wanted to be polite and the mug was warm. 

“I got a lot of new yarns in with the last caravan. Finest quality! Shire spun, the lot of it!”

The Shire. To Fili, the place of fertile soil and happy, good-natured beings growing their food and drinking their ale and smoking their pipe weed without a worry in the world other than potato bugs or caterpillars seemed like a place right out of a fairy tale.

Which might explain the choice of colours.

There were a few shades of green, which could be described as ‘Grass blanched under an upturned pot’, ‘Old Spinach’ and ‘Cud’.  
Two types of blue, one the washed out blue of a foggy winter sky and the other so dark it was almost black. That one certainly wasn’t bad.  
Garish Red, and Sunflower Yellow. No thank you.

And then this one that made Fili’s eyes water. In an attempt to be exceptionally nice and polite, he called it ‘Rose Petal’. It could also have been called ‘Skinned Rabbit’.

He couldn’t help himself and took one of those balls of atrocious pink and froze.

Mahal’s Beard. It was the nicest, softest, warmest wool he had ever touched.

He looked up at Dori. Dori smiled benevolently back.

“If you breathe one word of this to anyone I make you choke on your balls,” Fili said.

Dori kept on smiling and assured him of his discretion.

* * *

The nicest, softest and warmest socks Fili had ever owned were something no one could ever know about. He kept them in a pocket and changed into them in the privy. 

But Mahal, not even after a whole day out in the snow were his toes cold. If it hadn’t been for that terrible colour he’d have ordered three pairs or more.

As it was, his new socks were one of his dirtiest and well-kept secrets. Not even Kili with whom he lived practically cheek to jowl could ever know.

But the next time the Durin brothers were out hunting they were caught by surprise by a sudden drop in temperature and within an hour, the snowfall was so bad that they could hardly see their hands in front of their eyes. Almost impossible to tell where they had to go. And surely impossible to backtrack their steps because their footsteps had long been covered.

They had several breathless discussions about what directions to take upon reaching certain landmarks. In the end, they made it back to the gates of Ered Luin caked in snow with their garments soaked through, chilled to the bones and fingers and noses blue with cold.

Their mother, worried sick since the beginning of the snow storm, ushered them inside their dwelling in the mountain and she and Thorin quickly began to peel the two freezing dwarves out of their sodden clothing. 

“Come on,” Thorin said to Fili, his voice gentle. “Take of your boots, lad.”  
Fili felt horrified and suddenly, the prospect of having frozen to death might have been preferable.  
“Get out of those boots,” Thorin repeated. “If they start to dry like this we have to cut the straps because of the shrinkage.”  
Of course Fili knew this.

And then he noticed Kili being as hesitant. Both Fili and Kili were now bare-chested but still in their trousers and boots. Dís was already unbuckling the straps of Kili’s boots, and in the belief that his fingers were still too stiff from the cold, Thorin did the same for Fili.

There was nothing for it. Fili would lose his face forever. Here he was, Fili the warrior, Fili the prince, Fili the dwarf... with pink, fluffy socks.

Thorin lifted one questioning eyebrow as Fili stepped out of the boots. He couldn’t meet his uncle’s eyes. He couldn’t look at his brother either, nor his mother.

“Well, at least they’re warm,” Dís suddenly said.

Fili looked up, cringing in shame. But his mother hadn’t been talking to him but to his brother.

Kili looked up as well at that moment, the same shame in his eyes that Fili felt. 

Both their eyes simultaneously wandered down their bodies. 

Fili huffed out a chuckle.  
Kili grinned and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ceallaig1  
> If you still have space left for the birthday prompts...just something fluffy and happy with anyone you want. Smut not needed, matter of fact I'd prefer without, but whatever you feel like doing!
> 
> We agreed on some extra scenes from [Unintended Consequences](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4810382/chapters/11012705)

**Added to end of Chapter 35 Homecoming from the hospital**

It seemed like Axl and Olaf had taken a wrong turn somewhere, as they arrived about half an hour after Anders and Russell had come home together with the others. 

And when they finally did arrive, they were both grinning like idiots and emptied the contents of a shopping bag onto the dinner table. 

“Balloons?” Mike asked, lifting his eyebrows and crossing his arms.  
Anders looked up from where he was digging through the fridge. “What are you two up to now?”

Axl tore the bag with the balloons apart and took a bright, cheerfully yellow one to blow it up. Olaf did the same with a green one. 

Michelle crossed her arms as well, raised her eyebrows and exchanged a curious look with Dawn.

“We need...” Olaf said, struggling with tying a knot, “...a homecoming party.”  
“A homecoming party?” Russell, equipped with a glass of chocolate milk, looked up at his uncle and cousin with a frown. “Who’s coming home?”  
“You are!” Olaf booped Russell’s nose. “You’re coming home from the hospital!” Using his size to his advantage, Olaf stood on tiptoe and somehow, fastened the balloon to the lamp.  
Russell looked up at him, then at the balloon Axl was tying to a curtain rod. “We got streamers too!” He said and grinned.

“Axl, sometimes I swear you’re more of a kid than Russell is,” Mike said and shook his head, but he was smiling. It was a somewhat exasperated smile, but still.

The impromptu party decorations were in place in no time, and after Anders had handed out soda and beer, they all drank to Russell’s health. The boy obviously wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but he lifted his bottle nonetheless with a happy grin. 

“Well,” Dawn said as she looked around in the kitchen after the first toast. “Should we make dinner or just order something?”  
“We order,” Mike said. “Or would you rather play chef, Anders?”

The move habitually and unconscious, Anders ran a hand through his hair, or rather, he meant to. He closed his eyes and pulled a face, much to everyone’s amusement, before lowering the hand. “Hilarious,” he said and shook his head as he opened a drawer and produced the leaflet of a pizza service. “Do I have to take up another mortgage to feed you lot?”  
“I’m paying,” Mike said.  
“What?” Anders looked up. “You sure? Why don’t we just pool?”  
“My turn to be generous,” Mike said and with a small grin, rubbed a hand across Anders’s head.

Anders pretended to kick him, but Mike was fast enough. But before he could say anything else, Russell had planted himself in front of his uncle with crossed arms. He had just removed the beanie.

“Russ?”  
Russell’s face was dark with childish anger. “You’re not supposed to make fun of my dad because he doesn’t have any hair anymore!”  
Mike had his mouth hanging open, at a loss for an answer.

Russell glowered at him for a moment longer before rounding the kitchen counter. He patted Anders’s leg. “It will all grow back,” he said soothingly.  
Anders blinked hastily a few times before he bent down to pick him up. “I know that. Thanks, though.”  
“Don’t be sad,” Russell said, his voice heartbreakingly soft.  
“I’m not sad,” Anders replied with a small smile, eyes misting over. “I’m just a bit annoyed.”

Russell slung his arms around Anders’s neck and Anders tightened his hold. “It’s you and me, And... dad, right?”  
“You and me, Russ,” Anders replied, eyes closed.

“Hey,” Olaf said and ran a hand over his own head. “Can I join the club too?”  
Russell leaned back and looked at him with a confused frown. “But you never had any hair!”

That broke the spell and everybody burst out laughing, including Olaf.

* * *

As excited as he had been about the first dinner at home with something other than hospital food – and his favourite pizza, no less – halfway through the second slice of pizza, Russell began to sag and his face became a little pale.

“Russ?” Anders leaned forward and closed an arm around him. “You okay?”  
“My arm hurts,” Russell muttered.  
Anders nodded and cleared his throat. “Hang on.”

He quickly got up and headed for the kitchen where he had deposited the bag with the medication he had gotten from the hospital. There were two kinds of painkillers, syrup for daytime and suppositories for the nights. Anders took the syrup for now. 

Russell bravely swallowed the spoonful of the thick, sticky liquid that smelled of artificial strawberry flavour and his face distorted in disgust. 

“Maybe you should go to bed?” Anders asked cautiously. “You’re really tired.”  
“I want to stay here,” Russell replied in a very small voice and looked up at the gathered family around the table. “With you.”  
Anders could understand the boy’s desire to stay with his family after having been away from home for so long. “Maybe the sofa?” He suggested. 

At that, Russell nodded, and let himself be wrapped into a blanket. It was obvious, thought, that his arm was still hurting. 

“Hey, Russ.” Olaf got up and sat down next to him. “Should I tell you a story?”  
Russell’s eyes lit up, the attempt at distracting him from the pain already working. “When the giants stole Thor’s hammer?”  
“That’s your favourite, isn’t it?” Olaf smiled broadly. “Sure.” Then he settled back, but to his surprise, Russell crawled into his lap. 

Olaf’s face softened as he adjusted Russell’s position so the boy leaned against him with his right side, and Olaf could hold the left arm so it wasn’t dangling down.  
The conversation around the table had died down though they were all still eating, but now they were all listening to Olaf’s deep and soothing voice.

No more than five minutes later Russell had fallen asleep, his face leaning into Olaf’s shoulder. 

“Should I take him up to bed?” Anders asked in a low voice.  
Olaf smiled at him and shook his head. “No, it’s fine.” He smiled at his great-grandson sleeping in his arms. “It’s fine.” 

Then he continued the tale, his voice lowered and his eyes warm as he watched Russell’s sleeping face.

* * *

**After Chapter 36: The Zoo**

Anders had taken Russell out for ice cream after the cast had come off, but somehow, he felt that small a thing really insufficient for the occasion. 

And so, on the following Saturday, after Russell had finished his breakfast, he told him to get dressed so they could go.

“Go where?” Russell tilted his head.  
“The Zoo.”  
“The Zoo?” The boy’s eyes widened. “Really?”  
“Yes, really.” Anders sat down in the chair next to him. “See... the last trip do the zoo wasn’t really... well. You never made it to the zoo, so I thought we catch up on that.”

Russell started bouncing in his chair. “Today?”  
“That’s why I told you to get dressed.”

Russell shot out of the chair so fast it almost toppled over and dashed up the stars. Chuckling to himself, Anders got up again as well, and by the time Russell came racing down again he had finished packing, although he hadn’t packed a picnic. They would go and eat chips and hotdogs and ice cream and candy and in general being very unhealthy because Anders had every intention of giving Russell the best day ever. 

“Dad?” Russell straightened up after lacing his shoes.  
“Yes?”  
“Are Uncle Ty and Auntie Dawn coming, too? And Uncle Mike and Uncle Axl?”  
“No, not this time.” Anders picked up the bag and headed for the door. He crouched down in front of the boy. “Today, it’s just you and me, Russ.”  
“Just you and me?”  
“You and me.”

Russell’s smile and made Anders’s heart melt and it was still glowing when they had reached the car.

As usual, when Russell was idle, Anders pressed the small sand-filled ball into his left hand after fastening his seatbelt and Russell began dutifully kneading it with his fingers. So far, physical therapy for the arm had made really good progress, and while the arm was still somewhat thinner then the right one, Russell had almost all flexibility back. The therapist had assured him that Russell had been lucky and the surgeons had done a damn good job; within a few months’ time, the scar would be all that remained. 

That scar, a long, thick ridge on the inside of the arm from the middle of the upper arm down past the elbow, and the eight punctures left by the metal fixture, would probably bother the boy once he was a teenager, but for now, Russell showed the scars to everyone and their mother and flourished them like a tribal warrior his ritual tattoos. 

Hand in hand they headed for the entrance after parking the car, and Russell skipped merrily beside Anders asking him tons of questions about various animals that Anders could only admit ignorance to. 

Once through admittance, Anders shouldered his bag and watched Russell dart forward with a smile. He himself had dressed down considerably; expecting dirt and dust and probably animal hairs and benches with bird droppings he wasn’t wearing his usual slacks but the pair of black jeans he had bought for the fancy dress party, and a grey T-shirt.

In short, he looked like any other dad being here with his kid on a Saturday afternoon. It felt a bit weird. But mostly, it felt pretty good. Father and son. Just Russ and his dad.

Immediately after they left the building Russell raced to the right, towards the compound with the giraffes, ostriches and zebras.

“Look!” Russell tugged at Anders’s shirt. “Look, dad! Giraffes! And Zebras! Look!”  
“I am looking,” Anders laughed.  
“Come on!”

Anders followed the tug and let himself be dragged along a wooden boardwalk path past the giraffes, while Russell was babbling in delight and so fast Anders had a hard time keeping up. And then there were rhinoceroses and gazelles to the left and Lions to the right, and at the first cafe, The Watering Hole, located between the elephants and the lions, Russell was already in dire need of a break. He was sweating.

As Anders watched him guzzle his lemonade, he suddenly realised that obviously, Russell had never been to a zoo before. Of course, he was only six and a half, but Wellington had a zoo as well. And yet, wasn’t the image of Kevin McInnis taking Russell’s hand and looking at lions the last thing Anders was able to imagine?  
On the other hand, wasn’t the concept of Anders Johnson taking a little boy to the zoo something even harder to imagine, for anyone who had known him, back before the letter of the MoJ had arrived? He chuckled to himself. 

After having made short work of the lemonade Russell was on his feet again and took Anders’s hand to drag him off the chair. He didn’t even look at the water feature other kids were playing in.  
Russell was here for the animals, and he meant business.

Anders had to read every single sign at every compound. He probably learned more about various animals in one hour than he had during his whole time at school and Russell absorbed all that information like a sponge. 

They had their lunch at Darwin’s Café, after having spent almost twenty minutes watching the meerkats. But again, the playground on the other side of the café was of no consequence to the boy, because who needed a playground when there were tigers in the vicinity?

Anders read about red pandas, otters, tigers, emus and wallabies. The lorikeet aviary had Russell awestruck but the highlight of the day came a little later.

Russell stared.  
“They look great, right?”  
Russell kept on staring.  
“They don’t really look as cuddly and friendly as Al does, do they?”  
“They’re huge,” Russell finally whispered. 

Well, TV documentaries were certainly fascinating and informative, but they couldn’t compete with the real stuff. Russell was staring at the alligators as if he was having a vision from god.

It was when Anders looked at his son’s face, eyes shining brightly and wide with awe and wonder, cheeks slightly flushed and lips parted, that he realised it: Whatever he had meant to do, whatever he had hoped or didn’t dare to hope would happen; whatever his doubts and regrets had been during the last year, it was this he had wanted. Something he had never had, something he had never been, but something that he had been able to afford his son.

That scared, intimidated, lost and abandoned little boy had turned into a carefree, happy child. 

Anders stepped up behind Russell and placed his hands on his shoulders. Russell leaned back against him, and they both watched the alligators yawn and in general, not do anything much. Still, it took Russ a long time to get bored of the sleeping alligators. 

Later, they hey had ice cream and coffee, respectively, and on their way out, Russell was holding on to a small plush alligator that he had begged Anders for in the gift shop. Russ made it into the car, but he was asleep at the first traffic lights.

Anders carried him inside, and once he was in his pyjamas and on the way to bed, Russell remembered the new alligator he had forgotten downstairs. Anders asked him to go to bed and went downstairs to fetch it.

“Look,” Russell said to Al and presented his friend with the smaller alligator. “This is Gaty. We found him today, Dad and me, in the zoo.”  
Anders sat down at the edge of the mattress.  
“See,” Russell continued. “He’s all alone, and you can be his dad and take care of him. You’ll be the best dad ever, Al.” Then he gave Anders a heartbreaking smile, his eyes full of love and adoration, before he settled the two alligators under his blanket, nestled together.

Anders was able to keep it together until he had switched off the lights in Russell’s room, but once he was downstairs, he found himself a pack of Kleenex and gave up.

Once his vision had cleared again Anders looked up at the fridge door and the laminated picture, and after a long moment, he shook his head with a crooked little smile.


	4. FiKi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anathema-cat  
> Lost-in-translation story where maybe Fili's native language is German & Kili's is English. They each can speak the other but not very well, yet they manage to fall in love despite communication issues.
> 
> Mouseover translation provided.
> 
>   
>    
> 

Travelling into foreign countries is always a challenge, even more so when you don’t speak the language. Fully aware of the perils, Kili had booked the ticket to Hamburg to find his way from there to Munich on his own, confident that either, his German would have improved by the time he came home or he’d starved to death underway. 

He’d been here in this country for several months now, and his time was slowly drawing to a close; he was already in the south of the country, only a few weeks away from his goal, and even ahead of schedule.

That suited him fine, as this little city he had come across here, south of Stuttgart, seemed a really interesting place. He had left the train station and headed for the youth hostel but now had to stop on the bridge that crossed the river... He looked at his map, a printout made in an internet café in Stuttgart. Neckar. That was it. 

He had seldom in his life seen a more beautiful view. The old houses above the water line, the weeping willow and the little tower, and flat boats lying there in a row.  
He’d seen pictures of the place as he had booked the hostel room, but the reality, especially was spectacular, on a bright, sunny day like today, pictures did it little justice. 

A look over his shoulder confirmed that yes, there was a restaurant that used to be a brewery as well, you could still see the great copper brew kettles through the windows. Behind, several large chestnut trees overshadowed a gravelled place with lots of tables and benches, with laughing and drinking and eating people. 

At moments like these, Kili wished he had not made the decision to go abroad on his own. 

With a sigh, he looked at his map again. He could hear a few people heading into his direction, laughing and joking, and he had to smile even though he hardly understood a word. Then someone bumped into him, and Kili lost the grip on his map. It sailed away and slowly and elegantly, floated downwards to land softly on the river where it was carried out of sight.

“Ach du Scheisse, sorry!”  
Kili blinked and looked into the most amazingly blue eyes he had ever seen.  
“Mensch, das tut mir leid! War das deine Karte? Ich kann dir doch bestimmt helfen, oder?”  
“Uhm.” He was dressed in a tank top, shorts and flip-flops, and he was talking a little fast, with strong accent, to boot, so Kili wasn’t quite sure what he had said. But if he had understood correctly, he had been offered help. “Ja... Ich... suche...” Fuck that groping for words. “Jugenherberg?  
“Die Jugendherberge?” The frown turned into a smile. “Kein Problem! Du gehst einfach da am Neckarmüller vorbei, und dann vor, und nach ein paar hundert Metern rechts!”

Kili met his eyes, and their frowns mirrored each other. The German froze in mid-move and looked a bit like an old-fashioned policeman trying to regulate the traffic on a busy crossroad. 

“Okay...” The blond guy rubbed a hand across the back of his neck.“Go past... pub? Nee, restaurant?” He pointed at the place with the brew kettles visible in the windows. “Right. To the right. Go down that road, and the... youth hotel... is to the right.” He gestured very lively into the directions he was trying to describe.  
All the th-sounds were more like z, but somehow, Kili managed to understand. “Danke. Vielen Danke.”

Then he shouldered his heavy backpack and picked up the bag. The nice German guy waved and was about to walk away as Kili straightened up again, but then stopped and turned around.

“Sorry?”  
“Yes... ja?”  
“That looks... heavy? I can help you. No problem.”  
“I... it’s not...” Necessary? Fuck. “Wichtig?”  
“Wohl. Egal. Scheiss drauf.” The blonde took Kili’s bag and winked. “Mir nach. I mean, come with me.”

Adjusting the straps of his backpack, Kili stopped questioning his luck and followed the most gorgeous arse he had encountered so far in Germany across the traffic light and past the restaurant. He cast a wistful look at the trees and the tables in their shade.

“Neckarmüller,” his companion said. “The restaurant. Great Biergarten. Have you tried German Bier yet?”  
“Ein bisschen” Kili tried to smile, but it was almost impossible not to as soon as the young man carrying his back looked at him again. He had such a sunny grin that Kili just couldn’t stop. 

“So.” All too soon they had reached the youth hostel and his guide assisted him at reception with the room and bed. He even carried the bag into Kili’s room.

“Vielen danke.” Kili shrugged the heavy backpack off.  
“Kein Problem.” He winked, then held out his hand. “Phillip. Kannst aber Fili zu mir sagen, tun alle hier. Wo kommste denn... I mean, where are you from?”  
Kili took the offered hand. Fili had a very pleasant handshake. “Kilean, ich bin von Dublin. Mein Freunde sagen Kili.”

Fili burst out laughing. “Klasse!” he let go of Kili’s hand. “Und was... what are your plans?”  
“Look around.” Kili opened the large back and found his satchel. “Find some food.”  
“Beer?”  
“That too.”

They were both grinning.

“Come on,” Fili said. “I show you around.”  
“Really?”  
“Sure!” 

They left the hostel again, and as they headed back towards the bridge, Fili did his best to talk English. He wasn’t bad; his English was leagues better than Kili’s German, but he wasn’t really fluent and constantly groping for words. His accent was atrocious, too, but even if it made him hard to understand, it was fucking adorable.

Talking almost non-stop and gesturing lively, Fili dragged him through an amazing historic centre of the town, all cobblestones and half-timbered houses, and even stood him an ice cream cone. 

With that, they settled down on the stairs below the old collegiate church and watched the people pass by while this time, it was Kili who talked about Dublin. Fili’s eyes were big a shiny like a child’s.

“I want to go to Dublin, too. Always wanted to.”  
“Just call me when you’re there,” Kili said with a grin.

They smiled at each other, then Fili winked, and Kili looked hastily away. 

Ooh no. No. A holiday flirt was one of the things he had sworn himself not to get involved with. Not ever. 

“How long are you staying?” Fili asked, the smile wavering for a moment.  
“Don’t know yet.” Kili caught a few stray drops of melting ice cream with his tongue. “My plane leaves from Munich on the 23rd next month.”  
“Munich.” Fili couldn’t have put more disdain into that single word. “There’s nothing worth looking at there.”  
“As opposed to here?”  
“Look around!” Fili stood up with a grin and Kili followed him. 

There, at a house facing the church, hung a small brass plaque: Hier kotzte Goethe.

“What does it say?”  
Fili laughed. “Here puked Goethe.”

Kili almost choked on his ice cream. “I fucking love this place.”  
“Welcome to Tübingen!”

* * *

Fili had shown him around for a while longer, and had even offered him to come along for a few beers with his friends, but Kili had declined. Not that he would have indeed spending the evening with that gorgeous man, but he was knackered. Fili badgered his phone number out of him and promised Kili to call him.

Which was the reason he was now sitting on a blanket in a park between old university buildings with a dozen other people and a crate of beer. They were all talking and laughing, way too fast for Kili to understand much, but the way they talked and laughed made him feel at ease. 

“Hey, Kili, right?”  
Kili looked up with a nod.  
“Hey. I’m Tauriel, but you can call me Ella. You’re from Dublin, right?”  
Her English was that of a native speaker, but he couldn’t place her accent. “Yes. You?”  
“Lincoln.”  
“England?”  
“Yes. Don’t kill me.”  
Kili laughed. “We’re on neutral territory here.”  
“And the beer is fucking brilliant.”  
“I noticed, yes.”

They shared a laugh and Ella offered him another bottle. “So. Fili said you’re staying a few weeks?”  
“Yes.” God, that beer was the stuff of legends. “Though, the more beer I try, the less I’m sure I want to leave at all.”  
Ella threw back her head and laughed. “Fili! Gehört?”  
“Was gehört?” Fili looked up.  
“Dein Ire sagt je mehr Bier er probiert um so weniger will er wieder weg!”  
“Er ist nicht mein Ire!” Fili almost yelled, his face taking on an interesting shade of red.

The fuck?

Ella leaned closer. “We’ve all been trying to fix him up with someone since his vile breakup last year. Sorry for making jokes you can’t understand.” She smiled a little apologetically.  
Kili was a little lost in thoughts after having seen Fili’s face turn red, and he didn’t think before the words were out of his mouth. “Wouldn’t mind, though.” Then he looked up, and into Ella’s smiling face. “Fuck. Don’t tell him I said that!”

Ella lifted both eyebrows and took a sip of beer. She said nothing, but the smile betrayed her thoughts and Kili cursed his fucking Irish tongue that couldn’t wait for his brain to catch up.

* * *

Fili and his friends had adopted Kili after that first afternoon in the park, though. Since they had lectures during daytime Kili was left to his own devices, but Fili always called him as soon as he was done. And Kili couldn’t help the feeling that Fili seemed to be skiving a little. 

And Kili, who was faced with the prospect of having to leave again in a few weeks’ time, certainly didn’t mind having to spend his time with the most gorgeous man he could imagine. 

After two weeks, Kili had been introduced to all pubs and restaurants and cafés suitable for a student’s economy, and had sampled more types of beer he had thought existed. The South of Germany certainly had its merits. Gorgeous young men AND gorgeous beer.

Kili began to dread the day he would have to leave.

* * *

On his last night, Fili and Ella and the others had dragged Kili along into a pub called Bierkeller where a pub quiz was held every Monday evening. It was loud, and crammed, and dimly lit, but the beer was reasonably priced and the atmosphere was great. 

The six other people sitting around him were debating over the sheet of the quiz and the discussion turned into a heated argument that completely passed Kili by. He sipped his beer and contended himself with watching Fili. 

The blond hair and beard, the beautiful blue eyes. The rune tattoo on his right biceps. He really should summon the guts one day to ask what it said. 

The argument about the last question had turned into yelling, and finally, Fili tore the sheet of paper out of his friend’s hand and relocated by means of shooing Ella away and sitting down next to Kili.

“You gotta help us!”  
Kili looked at the sheet. “Uhm...”  
“Okay, here it says...” Fili looked helplessly at Ella.

Ella friend at the paper. “It says what do Obi Wan Kenobi, world records and St James’s Gate have in Common?”  
“St James’s Gate?” Kili stared at his beer. But that was in Dublin and... He burst out laughing.  
“Kili?” Fili blinked a few times.  
It took him a while to calm down enough. “Guinness,” he chortled out. “St Jamses’s Gate is in Dublin, where the Guinness brewery is.  
“Maaaaan!” One of Fili’s friends slapped his forehead. “Guinness Book of records!”  
“Alec Guinnes!” Fili quickly dotted the word down. “Kili you’re a fucking genius!”

Kili was indeed very pleased with himself. 

They won the pub quiz, and Kili didn’t have to pay for a single drink anymore that night. Fili saw him back to the hostel, but mildly inebriated as they were, it took them a while to get there. And the whole way they were giggling like idiots and making stupid Star Wars references the other couldn’t understand because Fili had watched the movies in German and Kili in English. The only thing they could agree on was binary and they cracked each other up with whistling and beeping. 

Having reached the hostel doors the mood changed a little. Fili had stopped grinning and was looking at Kili with a wistful smile. 

“So, you leave tomorrow...”  
“Yeah, and you know... I listened to you and I used all the time I had. So it’s Munich airport and home.”  
“Home to Dublin.”  
“Hm.”

There was an awkward silence. 

“Kili...” Fili looked up again, and those blue eyes... Kili didn’t want to see those eyes look so sad.  
“What?”  
“You think you’ll ever come back here?”

Kili felt his heart race and swallowed. “I don’t know, but...” Then he tried to smile. “I got this shit ass weirdo of a friend here and the best beer in the world.”  
Fili managed a smile as well. “So when are you going?”  
“My train leaves at quarter to eight.”  
“Hm.” Fili looked at his feet. 

“Hey.” Kili put a hand onto his shoulder.  
Fili looked up. “Ja?”  
“I’ll be back.”  
“Promised?”

Their eyes met. 

“Promised,” Kili said.

Then Fili took a step forward and they embraced. Slung their arms around each other and held on. For much, much longer than a simple farewell hug. 

“Mach’s gut.” Then Fili let go very abruptly, spun around and left. 

Kili wasn’t sure of it. In the darkness, it looked as if Fili had had tears in his eyes. Kili wiped a hand across his own.

“Fuck. Fucking fuck.”

* * *

Half past seven the next day saw Kili stand on the platform waiting for the train. His thoughts kept running in circles, if he should have made a move, if he should have tried to hit on that gorgeous man, but he was still adamant about not wanting a holiday flirt.  
Only, this didn’t feel like a holiday romance. Not only because there hadn’t been any romance. He had it bad for that blonde German, so bad like he hadn’t had it for a long time.  
Fuck.  
He wiped his eyes.  
Not again.

“Kili!”  
Kili spun around and saw Ella hurry up the stairs to the platform. “Ella?”

Ella stopped and caught her breath. “You are idiots, the both of you!  
“Come again?” Kili looked up and at the train that was slowly heading towards the station.  
“You and Fili, you’re idiots! I kicked his ass for weeks to make a move, and I tried to get you to make a move too!”  
“Ella, that’s...”  
“I know it’s none of my business. But Jesus fucking Christ...”

“Kili!”

Fili came running up the stairs as well. His face was white and his eyes red.  
That did it for Kili. The moment Fili had reached him they flung their arms around each other, and Kili couldn’t stop his tears. 

“Shit, Fili I’m sorry... I’m such an idiot...”  
“No, it’s okay...” Fili leaned back. “Ella is right. We are both idiots.”  
“And now?” Kili wiped a hand down his face.  
“Hang on to my number. You said you will be back, right?”  
Kili nodded. “Damn right I will be.” 

The train pulled into the station and came to a halt.

“Fuck.” Kili pulled Fili tight again. “I can’t... I’ve used up all my money and I can’t book another plane ticket. And my term starts soon too and...”  
“It’s okay.” Fili slapped his back and leaned back. 

They looked at each other as the doors of the train opened and the people began to file out and across the platform. 

“Just fucking kiss already!” Ella shouted, making several people either give her very scandalized looks or laugh. 

Fili cradled Kili’s face in his hand and did just that. 

One kiss. One hungry, desperate kiss. They tore themselves apart when the kiss began to taste of salt.

“Kili...”  
“I’ll be back. Just like Schwarzenegger. Won’t get rid of me.”  
“Kili?” Ella called. She was standing next to the open doors of the train, with his bag and backpack. 

One last embrace, and they touched their foreheads together. “I’ll write. I text you until your phone starts puking rainbows.”  
“Mach’s gut.” Fili stood back. 

Kili threw his luggage into the train and found a place to sit. The last glance he took out of the window, as the train rolled out of the station, was to see Fili sling his arms around Ella who ran a hand through his hair. 

Not bothering to stop his tears, Kili fell into the seat and closed his eyes.

* * *

Fili hadn’t had a summer like the one with Kili in years. Most likely never. Never before had he fallen that hard and fast for someone. And never before had he missed someone as much as he did Kili. 

Kili had texted him from Munich airport, promising to call him once he was back in Dublin. That was the last Fili had heard of him.

The new term started in autumn, but Kili didn’t call.  
He didn’t text.  
Fili’s phone didn’t puke rainbows. 

Fili texted him instead. He never got a reply. 

Ella, best friend for years, was holding him as he cried after deleting Kili’s number.

* * *

Dressed in jeans, knitted sweater, a windbreaker, and with a hat, a scarf and mittens, Fili leaned onto the railing of the bridge to look at the view below. Even in this cold he still saw the hot summer day with the flowers in the flower baskets hanging from the railing, and the young gorgeous man with the dark, unruly hair and chocolate eyes, looking lost and alone. 

At his parents’ house during the Christmas holidays, he wondered if Kili was still thinking of him. And why he had been crying too when all this had meant nothing. No text. No message, no Happy Christmas. Nothing.

Fili was back in Tübingen with the New Year, back in touch with Ella and all his other friends. Life goes on, he told himself. But he had a hard time getting over Kili, a guy he hadn’t known for more than a few weeks. 

Ella was the only one of his friends who didn’t try to cheer him up with meaningless philosophy; she just took him out to get pissed whenever he was caught up in one of his depressed moods. With springtime, Fili was able to smile again. Thinking of Kili still hurt. But it was no longer a crippling pain. 

Fili spent the holidays after the winter term at home with his parents again, and started the summer term with the resolve of improving his love life and getting laid. 

It was more of a New Year’s resolution. Apparently, he still wasn’t really over Kili yet.

* * *

It was the first night of the year warm enough to be out in a T-shirt, but now they were all on their way to the Bierkeller again for the pub quiz. Laughing and joking they made their way there while Ella had slipped her arm through Fili’s. 

They had reached the entrance to the pub when someone called him. 

At the sound of the voice, Fili froze, and Ella, who had heard the voice as well, slowly let go of his arm. 

Fili turned around, and saw the familiar figure, tall and lean and with dark unruly hair sprinting towards him. 

“Fili!”

They stared at each other in painful silence after Kili had come to a halt.

Tears were streaming down Kili’s cheeks. “Fuck, I’m so sorry... Fili I’m so sorry I never called... I should’ve written your number on a fucking piece of paper... my phone got stolen at the airport, and I didn’t have your number anymore, and I couldn’t... and I looked on Facebook but I couldn’t find you either...” He wiped his face. “I’m so sorry... it wasn’t my fault, really...”

“Kili?” Fili couldn’t think of any other reply.

“I couldn’t...” Kili sobbed and wiped a hand across his eyes. “I couldn’t come back because I had to start the new term and had exams coming up and I had to scrape the cash together first and... fuck... I came as fast as I could, Fili. I swear, as fast as I could...” His voice teetered out into a whisper. “I’m so sorry...”  
“Ja aber...”  
“And I’ve been here for a week now and running through the city like a fucking idiot because I couldn’t remember where you live, and then I finally remembered the pub quiz on Monday nights and...” He stared at Fili in mute despair, tears dripping down his chin.

“For fuck’s sake,” Ella hissed into Fili’s ear. “Stop staring at him like a fucking idiot and kiss him!” Shee gave him a push. 

Fili staggered a step forward, and for another moment, the two of them stared at each other before they both simultaneously moved and embraced. They clamped their arms around each other and held on for dear life.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so fucking sorry...” Kili whispered into Fili’s hair.  
“It’s okay, it’s okay... Oh Kili, ist alles gut... it’s okay...”  
“But you thought I’d ditched you, right?”  
Fili leaned back. “I did.”  
“Not that I blame you.”  
“You are here now.”

Their eyes met, and then they moved again, this time touching their foreheads together. Kili slung one arm around Fili’s neck and Fili rested a hand against Kili’s cheek.

“Will you two idiots fucking kiss already or do I have to duct tape your fucking faces together?!” Ella yelled. 

Both men snorted gracelessly and after the giggles died down, their eyes met again. For a moment, before they both closed them and touched their lips together. One soft kiss quickly turned into two, three...  
And then they opened their lips and the world around them ceased to exist.

“Bless those fucking idiots,” Ella said with a soft smile as she shooed the rest of their group, who were busily cheering and cat-calling, down the stairs and into the pub. 

Fili and Kili remained upstairs, lost in their kiss.


	5. Dawn/Anders

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> odin-god-of-nothing-important
> 
> I seriously need more Dawnders fics in my life but apparently not many people ship it …. If in any case you do like this ship I’d love to read something along the lines First Date/First kiss with A TON of fluff

After an incredibly irritating Friday with bothersome telemarketers and Gunderson annoying the fuck out of both of them, Anders decided to call it a day two hours before their usual closing time.  
Dawn, otherwise the soul of conscientiousness, had agreed, seemingly as relieved as Anders to lock the door of the office behind them.

“Dawnsie...” Anders began after a moment’s hesitation. “I was wondering...”  
Not quite sure what to make of her boss being so unusual flustered, Dawn clutched her bag. “...Yes?”  
“See, I was wondering...” Anders rubbed the back of his neck.  
“Wondering what?”  
“If you have any plans for the weekend?”

Dawn straightened her back a little and plastered a smile onto her face.

“Not that it’s my business, really, I was just... I wanted to ask...” Anders managed a nervous little smile. Dawn was beginning to get worried. “I wanted to ask if you’d like to go out with me and have dinner,” he finally all but blurted out.

Dawn, caught completely unawares, blinked like an owl. 

“I mean... by all means, you don’t have to, you can say now, no hard feelings, really...” Anders adjusted his tie with a twitch of his head. “Although really... I’d love to take you out to dinner.”  
“Anders...” Dawn brought her nervously twitching eyebrows under control again. “It’s not... it’s not that I don’t want to, I...”

They both looked at each other, Dawn with slightly parted lips and Anders with his pressed tightly together.

“No, it’s... I understand.” Anders suddenly smiled brightly. “Just asking. Doesn’t matter anyway who I spent my Saturday evening with, right? Not your business anyway. After you said no.”  
“Anders...” Dawn adjusted the strap of her bag. “I didn’t say no.”  
“Oh.” Anders tilted his head. “You didn’t?”  
“No, I was just... I was about to say if that would be... a good idea, since I’m... your employee?”

Anders stared at her for a moment before he swallowed. “I don’t... it’s not...”  
“Anders Johnson,” Dawn said slowly after adjusting her bag again. “I’ve never seen you so nervous... what the hell is wrong with you?”  
“I...” Anders reached for his tie again. “I just asked a wonderful, lovely woman out to dinner and I am struggling with the feeling of having gotten a brush-off.”

Dawn shook her head with a sigh, but there was a small smile on her lips. 

“No brush-off.” Her smile widened a little. “If it means so much to you...”  
“It would.” Anders reached out, took her hand and breathed a kiss onto the back of that hand without taking his eyes off Dawn’s. “It would mean the world to me, Dawn.” His voice was low and soft.  
Dawn blushed and cleared her throat. “I... Anders I... I would love to.”

Anders smile was brighter than the sun and his eyes lit up. “Great. Wonderful. Pick you up at six?”  
“Uhm... sure.” Dawn crossed her arms and smiled again. “What should I... I mean... do you have anything in mind?”  
“I made a reservations at Vinnies.”  
“Vinnies?” Dawn’s smile looked a little forced. “Okay...”  
“Sounds not okay, though.” Anders was still smiling, but it looked a little forced.  
“No, Vinnies is fine... but...”  
“But?”  
“But...” Dawn suddenly chuckled. “You know, Vinnies is fine. I always wanted to try it. I was just so... surprised by that offer?”  
“You know that I am full of surprises, Dawn.”  
“Oh, you are, Anders Johnson.” Dawn chuckled again. “So I see you tomorrow?”  
“Six.”  
“Six.”

Anders winked at her, and they parted ways.

* * *

True to his word, Anders picked Dawn up at six the next day. Dawn had spent hours choosing her wardrobe and in the end, had settled on the LBD and the matching suede clutch bag. Anders, always smart and classy, was wearing the grey suit and a black dress shirt.

The table was towards the end, out of the way of the main traffic, and Anders gallantly helped Dawn sit down, adjusting her chair.

“Thank you,” Dawn said with a smile  
Anders sat down opposite of her with a smile of his own. “Thank you for honouring me with your presence tonight.”  
Dawn blushed again.  
“No, really, you humble me. You look amazing in that dress.”  
“Flatterer,” Dawn muttered, embarrassed and pleased at the same time.  
Anders’s smile changed quality, one of his dimples appeared and he winked at her. 

The wine arrived, and they softly touched their glasses together.

Starters had them both eat in a slightly awkward silence, but as they waited for the mains, Anders made a remark about the day before and Gunderson that made Dawn almost snort out her wine. Emboldened, he kept the conversation going that way, and somehow, the topic of their conversation turned into a bit of a wandering thread after that. They talked about everything and nothing. 

“Would you like to go for a drink as well?” Anders asked after they had left the restaurant again.  
“Sure.” Dawn smiled warmly. “Do you have anything special in mind?”  
“Are you more into cocktails or would you prefer a pub?”

Dawn faltered for a moment. “I think... you know, I don’t think I ever had anything more fancy than a Gin Tonic.”  
“That,” Anders said firmly. “I something we should work on.”  
“If you say so.”  
Anders winked. “Absolutely.”

Since there hadn’t been an available parking space nearby they had to walk a bit to get to Anders’s car. And on the way there, as he noticed that Dawn was rubbing her arms and trying to be inconspicuous about it, Anders shrugged his jacket off and gently placed it around her shoulders.

Dawn blushed again. “Thank you.”  
“I won’t have you be uncomfortable tonight,” Anders said with a smile.  
“I can assure you that I’m not.” Dawn adjusted the jacket and completely unconsciously, inhaled deeply with her nose close to the collar. 

Anders saw it and, with a decidedly softer smile, slowly closed an arm around her shoulders. Slow enough for her to avoid the touch, or say something. She did neither. 

“Just keeping you warm,” he said as Dawn looked up at him.  
“It’s appreciated.” Dawn bit her lower lip, but didn’t move away.

* * *

After settling down in one of Anders’s favourite bars, Anders asked her what she would like to drink. 

Dawn exhaled softly as she looked at the list of drinks menu. “I have no idea.”  
Anders chuckled. “No Gin and Tonic?”  
She put the menu down. “Why don’t you surprise me?”  
“Surprise you?”  
“Yes.”

“You want me to choose a cocktail that you will like?” Anders leaned back a little.  
“Yes,” Dawn replied with a firm smile. “And I’m sure you won’t make a mistake.”

Anders got up, adjusted his tie and headed for the bar. He returned somewhat later and, with the same gesture, sat down again.

A waitress brought two cocktails. 

“So.” Dawn looked at her glass, then at Anders.  
“Vodka Martini.” Anders lifted his glass. “I’m not a fancy cocktail drinker.”

Dawn looked at her glass again, containing a soft looking, white drink that somehow looked like clouds. 

“A White Dove,” Anders said, meeting her eyes, the smile playing softly around his lips while he looked at her with lowered eyelids.  
“A white Dove,” Dawn repeated after a moment, when she could tear her eyes away from Anders’s.

Dawn had to admit that the sweet and creamy drink was pushing all the right buttons. Anders lifted his glass with a smug and satisfied little smile.

* * *

It was quite late when they left the bar, and again, Anders offered Dawn his jacket on the way to the car. 

Dawn took a deep breath before getting into the car and looked up at the night sky. “Do you have any more plans for the night?”  
“In actual fact...”  
At the sound of his voice, Dawn tilted her head and looked at him.  
“I would very much like to have another drink with you, without having to drive.”  
“And what do you have in mind?”  
“Well.” Anders opened the car door for her. “I can’t make you a White Dove at my place, but I do have the odd bottle of really good wine, reserved for special occasions.”  
“Special occasions?” Dawn handed him the jacket back before getting into the car. “What kind of occasions?”

Anders slid down behind the wheel and looked at her. “Having a beautiful, amazing woman grace me with her presence,” he said.  
Dawn blushed again. “I bet you say that to every woman you take home.”  
“No, I don’t.” He started the car. “No woman is as beautiful and amazing as you are, Dawn.”  
“Flatterer.” Dawn curled into her seat.  
“Nothing but the plain truth.” Anders reached out for the gearstick and brushed her thigh in the process. “So... home or wine?”  
Dawn took a deep breath. “I think... I think I’ll go for the wine.”

Anders didn’t stop smiling for the whole way home.

Once there, he opened the car door again.

“You know, Anders, I had no idea you could be such a gentleman.”  
“I told you I’m full of surprises,” he replied with a wink.  
“As I discover,” Dawn gave back with a shy smile. 

The first thing Anders did was put on some music, soft and gentle instrumental jazz, before getting out the wineglasses and the wine. Equipped with these, they settled down on the couch.

“Thank you for a lovely evening,” Anders said as they brought their glasses together.  
“As far as I’m aware it isn’t over yet, is it?” Dawn asked coyly.  
Anders dropped his head with a soft laugh and took a sip of his wine. “If I had my way, this evening would never end.” He looked up and met her eyes. “I enjoyed every moment of it, Dawn. Still am, in fact.”  
“You know...” Dawn smiled and put down her glass. “So have I.”

Anders looked at her glass, then put his own down beside it. When his eyes met Dawn’s again, they both stilled for a moment. Their eyes locked, then Anders reached out and cautiously touched her cheek. Dawn closed her eyes with a sigh.

“You’re the most beautiful and amazing woman, Dawn,” Anders said, voice soft and low. “I wouldn’t know how to cope without you. And I just...” He leaned forward.  
Dawn swallowed, mesmerized by his voice and his eyes. “You just..?”  
“I just want you to play an even more important role,” he said, his thumb brushing along her cheekbone. “I want to give you the most important thing that I could think of.”  
“And...” Dawn’s voice was almost a whisper. “What is it?”  
“Me,” Anders said simply, but with a gentle smile.

“Anders...” Dawn shook her head with a soft chuckle. “I somehow can’t imagine you are a man who makes commitments like that.”  
“Dawn.” Anders leaned forward, sapphire eyes intense. “If I can have you, I need nothing and no one else.”

Her lips slightly parted, Dawn stared at Anders with widening eyes. And when he leaned forward, she closed them.

Their lips touched in a soft kiss, hardly more than a brush of skin on skin.

Then Anders slung one arm around her and pulled her close. Their lips touched again, and as Dawn leaned into the embrace, she opened her lips to him. The soft, almost shy kiss turned into something warmer, firmer, both passionate and playful, as Dawn’s hands buried themselves into Anders’s hair.

After parting due to the need for air, Anders trailed a line of soft kisses down her jaw and her neck, then across her shoulder. He gently pushed the strap of her dress out of the way and Dawn closed her hand around Anders’s arm with a sigh. 

Anders straightened up again and cradled her face in his hands. Their eyes met and locked, and Dawn swallowed hard after moistening her lips with a flick of her tongue. Then he kissed her again, more passionately this time, open mouthed, hungry, almost fiery. They both were moaning softly against each other’s lips until Dawn broke free and straddled his lap before slinging both arms around him. She pressed him against the backrest of the couch before kissing him just as hungrily.

“Dawn...” Anders let his head drop back with a heavy sigh after she had leaned back. “Come to bed with me?”  
Wordlessly, Dawn slid off him and held out her hand. 

After having reached the bedroom Dawn proceeded to unbutton his shirt, but she took her time; no tearing at buttons but slowly picking them apart, one after the other, until she could push it off his shoulders. Then she stepped closer for another hungry kiss, letting her hands run up and down the skin of Anders’s back. When she released him from the kiss he looked at her, breathing heavily through his nose as he reached out to undo the zipper of her dress. 

After divesting her off the dress by means of pushing down the straps so it slid off her shoulders and landed at her feet, he undid the clasps of her bra, deliberately slow. She quickly stepped into his embrace and they kissed again, skin to skin, their kisses becoming hot and messy and greedy. 

Once Anders had gotten rid of his trousers and briefs, with far less grace and much more impatience, he gently pushed her down and settled down beside her. 

Their breathing picking up speed now, skin to skin and their lips locked in hungry kisses, their hands roamed each other’s bodies. It was slow, sensual, it was discovering every curve and angle of each other’s bodies. The light in the bedroom was dimmed down and through the half open door, the soft jazz was still audible, and created a wonderful backdrop to their almost shy caresses. 

Anders broke the kiss again, to trace his lips across the skin of her neck and further down, discovering her body and leaving a trail of kisses in his wake, and eliciting the sweetest, most arousing sounds from her. And when she could not stand it anymore, those teasing, sweet caresses, she sat up and pushed him down to return the favour. Anders pressed his head into the pillow with a shameless, mindless moan when her lips found the spot he wanted her to touch the most; but before he could lose it he sat up, pulled her into an embrace to kiss her again before he pushed her down and rolled on top of her. 

Dawn whispered his name on a soft moan as their bodies joined. And after that there were no more words, only sensation, only each other, and with their breathing picking up speed and their breaths turning into moans and harsh gasps, their movements picked up speed as well.

Dawn came on a wordless, high-pitched wail and Anders followed shortly after, her name falling from his lips like a prayer. He collapsed onto her, and listened to her rapid heartbeat as one of her hands threaded itself into his hair while the other traced idly up and down his back. 

When he rolled down again she immediately pulled him close, and they kissed again, no more need for words. 

They fell asleep, curled up around each other, listening to each other’s breathing.


	6. Thorin/Fili

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> calamity-kitten.tumblr
> 
> So, I'd love something Thorin/Fíli. Doesn't have to be slash (although, of course, I'd love it), but I was thinking about Thorin and Fíli's relationship through another's eyes? All I ask is more book!verse, and a definitely positive relationship.

After a day out in the cold and snow, and coming home half-frozen, wet and caked in snow, sitting down in front of the fireplace with a mug of hot ale was the best way to end the day that Fili could imagine.

That, and listening to the silver tunes of Thorin’s harp. Fili stretched out his legs to get his tingling toes closer to the fire, then he closed his eyes. The soft notes of the harp filled the room, and the hot ale made his mind and his body feel pleasantly warm. He felt a small smile settle onto his face. 

It was these moments that he loved most. Having been out in the raging snowstorm with Thorin to make sure all the air ducts were free and not clogged with ice, they now had settled in Thorin’s quarters, just the two of them. Kili was at home with their mother, and for once, Fili didn’t suppress the selfish thought that he would not think of coming over to join them. He had so precious few moments like these. 

Just him and Thorin. And Thorin’s harp.

The chords were familiar, and when Thorin started to sing, his voice deep and clear, but so soft it was hardly more than a whisper, Fili silently mouthed the words.

_“Far over the misty mountains cold...”_

Fili looked up again as a log in the fireplace broke with a crackle and a cloud of sparks. And for a moment, he could all too easily imagine dragonfire, and the death and devastation it had brought. He wondered what Thorin saw when he sang those words.

The music ended, and Fili looked up at Thorin who smiled back at him. 

“How are your studies coming along, Fili?”  
Fili shrugged with a small, apologetic smile. “I don’t have much time to practice these days, uncle, with the winter preparations having started to early this year.”

Thorin nodded and got up, then indicated towards his chair. 

His smile widening, Fili got up and settled down at Thorin’s harp, letting his fingers slide across the strings. He had a harp himself, albeit a smaller one he settled into his lap while playing, and he always was in awe when Thorin allowed him to play this wonderful beauty made of sycamore and silver.

After a moment, when his fingers had adjusted to the slightly larger gaps between the strings, Fili closed his eyes and played. His fingers were not nearly as nimble as Thorin’s, not yet, but not once did he strike a wrong note. 

He was so lost in the sweet sounds of the harp that he had failed to notice Thorin walking around him, so he was mildly startled when he felt a pair of warm hands coming to rest on his shoulders as he had ended.

“You’re doing well, Fili.” Thorin increased the gentle pressure of his fingers. “And I am also referring to the management of the work-sharing you did this morning. You settled that dispute with skill and calmness. I am proud of you, my sister-son.”  
Fili took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Thank you, Thorin.”  
“And while you might never come into your birthright and wear the crown of your forefathers as I wish you would, you will still be a great leader to our people, Fili.”  
“Thank you.” Fili swallowed and closed his eyes. “I hope I will prove worthy of your faith in me.”  
“You will.” The pressure of the fingers increased again, and Fili felt Thorin’s thumbs trace across the skin of his neck. “You will. You are still cold.”

Fili looked up at him. “It has been a long day out in that blasted snow storm.”  
Thorin nodded and removed his hands. “Come to the fire and let me warm you.”  
Fili got up with a crooked grin. “I’m not a dwarfling anymore, Thorin.”  
“And don’t I know that better than anyone else?” Thorin smiled and held out his hand. “Just humour an old dwarf who wishes he could stop time, just every now and then, to hold on to precious moments. All of those turn into mere memories all too quickly.”

But despite not being a dwarfling anymore, to settle down in Thorin’s embrace on the bear skin in front of the fireplace felt warm and soothing, and Fili closed his eyes, trying to pretend that he was indeed a dwarfling, finding safety and comfort in his uncle’s arms. Although to be honest, during the last two years Thorin had made him very much aware of the fact that he wasn’t a dwarfling anymore, and more than once at that.

It was a different kind of closeness, a different kind of bond. And while Fili truly and dearly loved his brother and was never hesitant to share, this was something he closely and jealously guarded. 

Leaning back against Thorin’s chest Fili listened to the crackling of the fire in the hearth, and relaxed into the strong arms that had always meant safety and comfort to him.  
Sometimes, Fili felt like it might be a reward, like today, and sometimes it was indeed as a means to comfort him, like the first time. Fili had been scared half to death upon having been declared Thorin’s successor and next in the line to the throne, and Thorin had assured him of his maturity and restored a young dwarf’s self-confidence.

Today, for some reason, felt different, though. Thorin wasn’t holding him like he did when comforting him, and he wasn’t moving either. He seemed to be waiting for something. 

At first, Fili wasn’t sure if he had made a mistake, somehow. But the way Thorin’s hand trailed idly up and down his chest suggested otherwise. And after taking a deep breath, Fili sat up again and turned around to face him.

Thorin’s eyes, dark in the dim light of the fireplace, were trained on him, and there was a small, expectant smile on his face. Fili felt a rush of heat spread from his chest into his abdomen, but then he straightened up. Thorin was indeed waiting. He was waiting for Fili to make the first move.

His hands were trembling, as he noticed with slight dismay, not near as steady as he wanted them to be. He willed them as still has he could while he reached out and pushed the fur-lined vest off Thorin’s shoulders. Thorin assisted him, the smile growing and increasing the crinkles around the corners of his eyes. 

The belt came next, and as Fili pushed up the dark blue fabric of Thorin’s shirt, he felt his confidence return. Once Thorin was bare-chested, Fili undid his own belt and shrugged off his own vest before getting rid of his shirt. 

They took each other’s hands, their eyes locked, and let their hands travel up each other’s bare arms to rest them on the other’s shoulders. And after a moment, they broke the eye contact and leaned forward, their arms closing around each other, pressing chest against chest, skin against skin. 

Tingling of skin. Warmth on one side, the slightly cooler air of the room on the other. Glowing embers and burning wood, smoke and sparks and flickering flames. The sounds of their breathing, heavy but slow, the scent of Thorin’s skin, smoke and wood and leather and sweat, and that underlying note of a sun-warmed stone that was so utterly Thorin. 

They buried their faces into the crook of the other’s neck, lips and teeth nipping skin. They did not kiss; this was something different, love but not love, desire and affection, warmth and comfort.

Their belts came next, and as neither of them wore boots or shoes, trousers were easily discarded as well. There was more skin now, skin to keep warm where it wasn’t bathed in the glow of the fire, and the warm affection gave way to more desire. 

Hands roaming across expanses of skin, fingers digging into flesh; tongues and lips touching sensitive spots and eliciting soft moans and hums of pleasure and appreciation. By now, Fili knew Thorin as well as Thorin knew him. It was giving and receiving in equal measure.

“Go and find the oil.” Thorin’s low murmur made Fili’s spine tingle and he got up. 

Thorin’s eyes were dark with desire when he returned, roaming his body as Fili settled down again with the vial. But as he offered Thorin the small bottle, the latter smiled and leaned a little back.

Fili’s heart began to race. 

He saw the challenge in Thorin’s eyes. Had seen it so many times, but never here, never like this. 

_Do you have what it takes?_

Fili inclined his head, narrowing his eyes the tiniest bit. 

_I do._

And when he pressed a hand against Thorin’s chest, he went willingly. Lying on his back now, bare and relaxed, his silver-tinted hair spread out around his head, dark blue eyes almost black as jet, the flickering light casting dancing shadows across his skin.

Their eyes locked again as Fili leaned forward, and he could see the spark of lust ignite a fire in Thorin’s eyes as he closed his hand around the erect member rising out of the nest of dark curls it usually rested in. 

_Do you have what it takes?_

Fili let go again and reached for the vial.

_Let me prove it to you._

He had never done this before. Knew what to do, but still, he had only ever received, never given. He knew what he was supposed to do, and now he forced himself to calm his mind and act. 

His fingers now slicked with oil he touched the last spot of Thorin’s body he had not yet been allowed to touch, and his heart was racing like mad at the sensation, and the sounds he got as a reward. The gasp that turned into a low, husky groan hardly louder than a sigh that showed him when he had found the right spot. Soft, stuttering moans that accompanied the moves of his questioning, teasing fingers.

He wanted to savour, wanted this to last, but even with the best things, you could wait too long. Fili saw the sheen of moisture on Thorin’s temples, and felt the air of the room cool the moisture on his own back. He aligned himself, eyes locked with Thorin’s again, and he saw an almost victorious smile on Thorin’s face that was instantly shattered into a grimace of pure lust and need as Fili entered his body.

His moan mingled with Thorin’s, the sensation of heat, tightness, and the sudden rush of a feeling of power making every nerve in Fili’s body tingle. Then he stilled, and Thorin opened his eyes. 

For the duration of three heartbeats, time stood still, and then Fili began to move. Gentle at first, slow, getting accustomed to the position, the movements, the sensation. Listening to his own breathing coming harsh and fast, just as Thorin’s, he gave in to the demands of his own body and took hold of Thorin’s hips in a firm grip. The first hard thrust sent sparks through his mind. And with the second one, those sparks had ignited a fire in his chest and abdomen, fanned by Thorin’s voice.

“Yes...” Nothing but a low and husky whisper.

And closing his eyes, Fili gave both Thorin and himself what they both so desperately craved.

Harder and faster, feeling droplets of sweat trickling down his temples and between his shoulder blades. Harder and faster yet, his breath coming in unchecked moans now, mingling with Thorin’s, the rhythm set by Fili’s movements.

But it was not enough.

Fili slid out again, legs trembling and voice shaking. 

“Turn around.”

The flickering shadows danced and deepened as Thorin moved, orange and black veils dancing across his skin as he lowered himself on all fours now. Drunk on the sight alone Fili leaned forward again and, after pressing a hand between Thorin’s shoulders, pushed inside again. 

Empowered, emboldened. Thorin’s face was pressed into the thick fur of the bear skin, facing the fire, and the reflections of the flames turned his eyes into fiery opals. 

Fili leaned forward and moved again, one arm reaching around Thorin’s body to grasp his throbbing manhood. Stroking in time with his thrusts that were steadily growing harder and faster, he had never felt so powerful, so in control. He did not let himself go yet, not until he felt Thorin shudder and moan, and felt the warmth of his seed on his fingers as he climaxed. Then he dug the fingers of both his hands into the flesh of Thorin’s hips, burrowing himself to the hilt into Thorin’s body with every deep, hard thrust.  
He needed no more than a dozen before he was washed away into the momentary oblivion of climax himself.

As his awareness returned and he opened his eyes again, he could see droplets of sweat falling from his own face onto Thorin’s back, some of them trickling down his flanks and vanishing in the hair beneath. 

He slowly withdrew with a soft moan and a shudder, and sat back on his heels.

And very slowly, Thorin uncurled himself and sat up as well, leaning back onto his elbows with a warm and proud smile.

The crackling of the fire was the only sound as the two looked at each other. 

“I have been waiting for this day,” Thorin said in a low and gentle voice, slightly rough around the edges.  
Fili inclined his head. “For me to do this?”  
The smile on Thorin’s face softened and he sat up then and crossed his legs. “For the day that my authority over you is no longer as your surrogate father, your senior or your uncle, but as your king, and your king alone. I have been waiting for us to become equals, Fili.”  
His throat almost too dry to swallow, Fili inclined his head again.  
“Many times you have made me proud, Fili, my sister-son. And today I can rest assured that you are a worthy successor and that you will be a great king one day. I look forward to the day the crown of my grandfather will rest on your brow, for it will be then that you will lead us into a brighter future. I shall be proud to call you my King.”

The fire that now spread in Fili’s body was of a different kind than the fire of lust from only moments before. It was pride, fierce and loyal pride, of having succeeded, of Thorin seeing him as worthy, and at that moment, he truly felt like a future king, felt it with more confidence than he would have thought possible. If he would ever wear the crown of Erebor or not, he would be the leader of their people, and he would do right by them.

“Thank you.”

This time, it was Thorin who inclined his head.

After another moment of silence, Thorin smiled warmly and looked pointedly at the harp. “Will you play for me?”

Fili smiled and got up, and when he returned from the washroom after having cleaned up, he settled down in the chair without bothering to dress. It wasn’t necessary, not here, not now, not within the intimacy and closeness between the two of them. 

He closed his eyes and played and this time, his voice joined Thorin’s, carried by the sweet notes of the harp.

_“To find our long forgotten gold...”_


	7. FiKi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> filikilithorinforever
> 
> Fili/Kili: Fili trapped somehow, injured, and doesn't think anyone is coming for him. There for several days, doesn't realise there's a mass search and rescue going on. Modern or Middle Earth AU. Happy for graphic or non-graphic descriptions of injuries (if needed) Dark or happy ending, your choice

_I got this._

In truth, he had known at that moment that he wouldn’t leave Ravenhill alive. His only consolation now was that Kili had gotten away. He might not be safe. Most likely wasn’t. But he had been spared this.

The orc behind him dug his claws into the back of Fili’s head and pressed, bending him forward until his forehead touched the ground. They had stripped him bare to make sure there were no more hidden weapons, and the cold wind was biting into his skin. He could stand this, since he wouldn’t live that much longer with his shame. He could stand this, the grins, the hisses, the groping claws. He could stand everything, as long as he knew his brother was safe.

The sounds of black speech would be the last thing he would ever hear, and he had to admit he longed for the voices of his brother, his uncle, his mother... one last time. He somehow wished he had taken the time to say goodbye to his brother, but if he had, Kili would never have agreed to leave his side. 

A pair of boots came into view, and the orc now grabbed Fili’s hair to drag his head back. Fili looked at bare, pale legs, a hip wrapped in leather made of the skin of faces – dwarf faces, as he now realised with a shudder – and the bare, scarred chest before meeting Azog’s eyes. 

Whatever the pale orc said didn’t matter. Fili had known from the moment he sent his brother away he would die. But now he realised that his death would neither be swift nor coming anytime soon.

Azog bent down, and with a fond smile that made his scarred face look even more terrifying, ran a hand through Fili’s hair. Then he closed his fingers around the left of his temple braids, and tore it right out, bead and all.

Fili managed not to scream at the sudden sting of pain. He hadn’t screamed when they had captured him, just fought until the bitter end. Hadn’t made a sound as they had humiliated him while they spat on him as they had torn off his armour and clothes.  
He hadn’t screamed. He wouldn’t scream now.

He didn’t scream out loud now, even if he did so inwardly. Yet he did so more of a feeling of loss than pain. He had earned those braids. Not that it mattered anymore. Nothing mattered anymore. He wouldn’t die with dignity or honour. 

Azog let the braid slide through his fingers before dropping it. Fili watched it vanish as the pale orc’s boot pushed it away and over the edge. 

Another order, barked by his voice, and Fili was dragged onto his feet. White hot pain seared through his shoulders, but there was no way to ease the pain as they had dislocated both his shoulders before binding his hands onto his back, to make sure that even if he would somehow manage to free himself, he would not be able to fight.

Azog himself took the rope from the hands of one of his minions and slung the noose around Fili’s neck. 

The only thing left to Fili was to remain upright. He would not beg for mercy, he would receive none and only lose the last shred of dignity he had. 

He met Azog’s eyes head on as the giant orc took the end of the rope with a grin that transformed his marred face was the stuff of nightmares. A rough tug, and Fili stumbled forward, putting again a strain on his shoulders. He bit his lip until he tasted blood.

Azog noticed this and smiled even more now. He was looking forward to breaking him, gauging how much fun he could have with the captured prince before he would break.

Fili had no choice but to follow the tug of the rope, but despite the pain, he kept himself as upright as possible and walked without the rope dragging him along like a recalcitrant dog.

He almost lost his balance on the stairway down but managed to steady himself with bumping into the wall; it sent lances of fire through his back and shoulders but it saved him from falling flat onto his face on the way down the stairs, even if a broken nose or a pair of shattered front teeth would be the least of his problems now.

They left the last remnants of daylight behind on their way down. His captors lit the way with torches that stank so much it made Fili gag, and he briefly wondered what on earth they were made of, just to distract himself from thinking about what was to come. 

The corridor ended and Fili just focussed on the fact that if he would die here, he would die amongst stones built and carved by dwarven hand. That thought gave him new strength. He would not dishonour his folk and the Line of Durin. He would not break. 

But the anticipated torture didn’t come. Instead, they forced him onto his knees again, and Fili noticed an iron grate set into the stone floor, the hole it covered a bottomless darkness. They wound the rope that bound his hands through the bars, and the rope around his neck as well.

Now he was kneeling on the ground, his back to the grate, his hands behind his back tied to the rope around his neck and both of them tied to the grate. It bent him over backwards, and trying to straighten up would mean strangling himself. It would also mean tearing at his dislocated shoulders, but that wouldn’t stop Fili from trying to end himself if given the chance. His ropes were made of braided leather thongs and were impossible to tear or wear through.

Azog patted his head again and Fili just stared back, grim defiance on his face. 

“I will be back,” the pale orc rasped and cradled Fili’s face in his hands. “I will lay the heads of your kin there before you so they can watch you die.”  
Fili spat into his face.  
Azog gave him a backhanded slap that split his lips and sent white hot agony through his strained back and shoulders. 

“The Line of Durin will not be broken, you filth.”

Azog grinned, then chuckled, then laughed. Still laughing, he left, followed by his minions, and Fili was left alone in the dark, bound by ropes and by pain. If Mahal was merciful, he would freeze to death before they came back.

“Mahal, let Kili and Thorin be safe,” he prayed. “Save them. Take of me what you want, but spare them.”

Left alone in the icy darkness of the caves below Ravenhill, Fili was waiting to become one with the stone.

* * *

When Fili had failed to reappear, Kili had been eaten with worry and fear. But as he had been about to mount the steps again to go after him, something small and soft landed at his feet.

Shaking with terror, Kili took a step forward and sank to his knees, ignoring the coldness of the snow-covered flagstones. He reached out with a trembling hand and picked up the braid, tears burning in his eyes when he saw the traces of blood and realised that it hadn’t been cut off but torn out.

“Fili!” He staggered onto his feet. “I shouldn’t have left him alone!”  
Thorin had reached his side and closed a hand around his shoulder. His face went pale when his eyes fell onto the braid in Kili’s hands. “Fili...”  
“Thorin, I need to find him!”  
“Kili, you can’t do anything for him anymore!”  
“I need to find him!!”  
“And get captured and killed as well? He wanted you to be safe, Kili!”  
Kili’s face was a grimace of fury and pain. “Then shall I spend the rest of my days hiding inside the Mountain on a silken pillow to preserve my precious life? It’s worth nothing without him, Thorin!”  
“Kili, come to your senses, lad!” Dwalin cut in.

Kili pushed Thorin’s hand off. “My brother,” he began in a shaky voice. “My brother defied you to stay at my side! And I will do no less for him! I just came to my senses and I will not...”  
“Kili...” Thorin closed his hand around Kili’s upper arm.  
Kili’s voice almost broke, close to a scream but yet only a bitter snarl. “I almost abandoned him once, blinded by childish infatuation! I will not do so again, Thorin! I belong with my brother!”

He tore himself out of Thorin’s grip, but before he could mount the stairs, Dwalin had clamped his arms around the younger dwarf’s midriff.

“Kili, for Mahal’s sake!” Dwalin pushed him against a wall. “Your brother sacrificed himself so you could live! No one wants you to spend your life coddled away, but he can’t be saved! Take your sword to avenge him instead of wasting his last gift to you!”  
Breathing heavily, his eyes wide and his lips drawn back to reveal his teeth, Kili stared at the older dwarf like a rabid animal before he suddenly sagged with a sob.

“Fili...”  
Dwalin caught him with strong arms in a fierce embrace and let Kili sob into his shoulders. “There, lad.” His own voice was rough with grief as well. “We shall avenge him.”  
“But what if he isn’t dead yet?”  
“He is, laddie. Azog got him and he wouldn’t let him live.”  
Kili leaned back. “But what if he hasn’t killed him yet? What if he still lives, captured and alone... what if we could save him if we act now?”

“How would we do that?” Thorin’s face was pale with grief as well. “It would take hours to get enough warriors up here to search the tower. There is a battle raging down there that we have to win. And Fili bought you and me a chance to do so.”  
Kili swallowed hard and looked back and forth between Dwalin and his uncle. Then a movement behind them caught his eyes.

“Thorin...” He whispered.

Both Thorin and Dwalin slowly turned around.

“The eagles...” Kili swallowed hard. “The eagles are coming...”

But before any of the three could rally themselves, a flood of orcs suddenly poured out of the lower tunnels. There was no time left for wondering. The three dwarven warriors stood back to back, fighting for their life, no thoughts to spare for grieving. 

There were fewer of them than they had initially feared, but as they had vanquished them and stood bruised and bloodied and exhausted amongst the bodies of their foes, the ground made slippery by half-frozen blood, Azog himself appeared with a victorious grin.

“You will not end the Line of Durin,” Thorin said and lifted his blade. “You may have killed one of us, but we will end you.”  
Azog smiled and spread his arms. 

Thorin, Kili and Dwalin adjusted the grip on their weapons.

“For the Line of Durin,” Thorin said. “For Fili.”  
“For Fili,” Dwalin said.  
“For Fili.” Kili swallowed the bitter taste of bile in his throat. 

Thorin took a step forward. “Du Bekar!”

And screaming the battle cry of Durin’s Line on the top of their lungs, all three charged Azog as one.

* * *

The frozen earth before the gates of Erebor was soaked in blood. But what had started as a war of madness and greed had turned enemies into allies, and the forces of Azog had been vanquished after the pale orc had found his end at the hands of the Line of Durin that he had meant to end.

There were none of the company unharmed, but they were all gathered at the gates when Thorin and Kili approached them, the latter supported by Dwalin because a blade had sliced open the arrow wound again.

There was a stricken silence after they had gathered, twelve dwarves and a hobbit, dirty, exhausted, battered and bruised, meeting for the first time after the battle two days prior.

“Where is Fili?” Bilbo finally asked, his voice trembling.

“Fili is...” Thorin began, but Kili cut him off.  
“Azog captured him. We need to find him. Who is with me?”  
“Kili...”

Kili pushed Thorin away. “I will find him! Yes, he may be dead, but the battle is won now and I will not let my brother rot without a proper grave!” Tears were streaming down his cheeks. “And before I see his dead body with my own eyes I will not give up hope of finding him alive!”  
“It is a fool’s hope!” Thorin yelled.  
“Then I am a fool!” Kili screamed back. “Call me a fool, call me anything you want! I will not abandon my brother, dead or alive!”  
“You don’t even know where to start!”

Kili took a step back. “I will start where I lost him, where I abandoned him, which I should never have done, and...”  
“And if you hadn’t, you would be dead now too!”  
“Fili is not dead to me until I see him!” Kili limped a step back. “And if you are with me or not, I will go and find him!”  
“Kili!”

“Thorin...” Dwalin said slowly. “Ye’d have to tie the lad down at all four limbs to make him stop. We might as well go and purge Ravenhill now instead of giving whatever vermin is still lingering there a chance to escape and do further harm.”  
Everyone looked at the grizzled warrior in silence.  
“Thorin...” Dwalin took a step towards him.  
Thorin heaved a heavy sigh. “So be it then. Who of you wants to come, it is your own decision. I will not think ill of any of you should you wish to remain and rest.”

But each and every one of them slowly picked up their weapons, faces grim and determined.

* * *

Fili had listened to the retreating orcs, and in the silence and darkness, had prayed and prayed until his mind had gone blank. There were no feelings left but pain and fear, no thoughts left but this one: Let it be over. He had tried to tear at the ropes, tried to strangle himself, but the pain had been too much to bear. He was strong, but for this he wasn’t strong enough.

He had heard the raging battle, a dark and distant thundering, and now, he was left in silence that was only disturbed by dripping water. Sometimes, a drop would hit his face and he tried to lick those drops away.

The cold was slowly numbing him. It had seeped into his bones, had made him shiver, but now the shivering had stopped and the searing pain in his back and shoulders was reduced to a dull throbbing.

There was no means to tell the time. How long had he been here? Hours? Days? Weeks?  
Yet a small part of his mind that was still working told him that it couldn’t be weeks or he would have either died of cold or thirst.

As the cold numbed his body and the pain, it was thirst that took over every bit of his mind. Thoughts of water replaced every other thought and feeling. The few stray drops on his face that his tongue could catch only made it worse.

Sometimes, he would hallucinate; then he would hear the voice of his mother calling him for dinner, and he would call for help, beg her to come and release him, but her voice would fade again, leaving him alone in the darkness. Thorin would appear too, looking at him sternly, and as much as Fili begged him to cut the bonds, he just turned away again and left.

Mahal was the only one able to release him now. But he seemed disinclined to do so. Whenever his mind was clear enough to think, he wondered what he had done for Mahal to abandon him like this.

The hallucinations worsened with time, but he could no longer see them. He only heard voices, or sounds reminding him of his life and what he had lost, he heard his mother sing, heard Bofur tease his brother and cousin, and heard Dwalin bark orders. Sometimes, he could hear his brother laugh. It was the last thing giving him comfort. That Kili hadn’t been forced to share this fate.

But slowly, with the passing of time, his mind fell apart more and more. Thirst replaced every other sensation, even his mind had nothing to spare anymore. Sometimes, he could hear a voice, crying for release in hoarse sobs, unaware that it was his own.

And then he saw the light. After the long time in the absolute darkness it burned his eyes, but he heard a voice call him, the sweetest sound he could have ever imagined.

So Kili was dead as well... He had feared it, but at least he had died honourably on the battlefield. And now, as he was finally able to escape the pain, he would be reunited with his brother.

Footsteps. And the light became brighter, so bright that he had to close his eyes with a gasp of pain.

“Fili...” The voice was cold with horror. “Fili... Oh Mahal... Fili...”

Fili couldn’t open his eyes, but he felt the touch. It was... it was a hand. A hand on his arm. 

“Thorin!” Kili’s voice cut through the silence like a knife. “Thorin! Dwalin!”

Alerted by the terror in his voice, both Thorin and Dwalin came running around the corner and down the corridor.

“Mahal...” Dwalin breathed and fell to his knees beside Fili. “Is he still alive?”  
“I heard him groan,” Kili said, tears on his cheeks. “Oh Fili... oh Mahal... why didn’t we find you sooner?”  
“We found him now, lad, and he’s still alive.” Dwalin pulled a knife from its sheath. “Hold him steady.”

Fili couldn’t quite grasp what was happening. But he felt the touch, he heard the voices, and suddenly, the searing pain was back.

Dwalin cut the bonds free, and Fili fell forward into his brother’s arms with a scream, so hoarse and rasping dry that it made everyone wince. 

“Fili...” Kili tried to adjust his grip. “Fili, no... we’re here, Fili, you’re safe, we found you... we found you...”  
“Careful, lad.” Dwalin reached out and took one of Fili’s swollen wrists, carefully avoiding the skin rubbed raw by the rope. “Mahal have mercy...”  
“Dwalin?” Kili’s voice was small and frightened like a child’s.

Thorin lowered himself down as well.

“They dislocated both his shoulders before they bound him like that,” Dwalin said darkly, and even the grizzled old veteran was shaken. He quickly undid his belt and carefully, slung it around Fili’s upper body, binding his arms to his sides.

“Dwalin?” Kili swallowed. “What in Mahal’s name...”  
“We have to keep his arms in place,” Dwalin explained. “They’re stretched and strained and if we try to move them we just tear the stiffened muscles. We need to get him somewhere safe, and Oin has to give him a draught to knock him out before we can do anything.”

Kili lowered his head into Fili’s hair. “Fili...” He whispered. “Fili... brother... I’m sorry... I’m so sorry it took us so long...”

Fili still could hardly understand what was happening. The fire in his arms lessened again as something was wound around his body, and he could hear his brother’s voice, felt the touch...

Thorin shrugged the heavy fur-lined cloak off his shoulders, and he and Dwalin carefully and cautiously wrapped it around Fili’s body.

“There’s nothing for it,” Dwalin said heavily. “It will hurt him like being caught between Mahal’s hammer and his anvil, but we have to carry him out of here.”

As carefully as he could he hoisted Fili up into his arms, and the hoarse groans of pain made everyone wince. But as Dwalin got up and Fili’s back was suddenly bent the other way after having been forced to remain bound backwards for almost three days, Fili screamed, but in mid-scream he fainted and went limp.

“It’s a small mercy,” Dwalin whispered, tears on his cheeks “Let’s get out of here.”

* * *

The healers kept Fili drugged for a week, and during that time, Kili didn’t leave his brother’s side for more than absolutely necessary. 

After bathing Fili in warm herbal infusions and massaging the strained muscles, they had been able to set his shoulders, but no one was in any doubt that he would suffer from pain in his joints for a long time to come. The abrasions on his wrists and his neck had been cleaned and bandaged, but after that they had only let Fili surface towards consciousness enough to make him drink. 

Kili stayed at his brother’s side and fought Fili’s nightmares together with him. Whenever Fili would toss and moan and sometimes scream in his sleep, Kili slipped into his bed beside him to hold him, taking his hand and pressing his forehead against Fili’s temple while telling him in soothing words that everything was fine and that everything would be fine.

“I’m here, Fili,” he would whisper into his brother’s ear. “I’m here, we found you, you’re safe. Everything will be fine.”

And Fili would calm down and cling to his brother’s hands until he was asleep again.

It took Fili all of four weeks to be able to sit up again, and all of his joints still hurt. But when he was finally sitting upright, propped up with pillows, every single member of the company, including Bilbo, came by to offer him a few words of encouragement and express their happiness and relief about the fact he was still alive.

In the time Fili had been gone, Kili had aged a decade. His worry and his grief and his fear had eaten his carefree cheerfulness, and the first time Fili saw his brother after being finally fully conscious again, he could hardly recognise this prince of Durin as his obnoxious little brother.

He was dressed in an embroidered tunic with a fur collar, and his hair was clasped back with two braids framing his serene face.

Fili tore his eyes away from this familiar stranger to look at Thorin who carefully sat down on Fili’s other side.

Both of them then took one of Fili’s hands.

“Do you forgive us for not coming after you?” Thorin asked in a low voice.  
Fili frowned and tilted his head.  
“When you sent me away,” Kili said, his voice low as well. “On Ravenhill. I knew you had been captured, but I didn’t go after you and...” The pain in his voice was unmistakable.  
“I told him you were lost,” Thorin said with a rough edge to his voice. “I did not believe you could be alive after the Defiler got his filthy hands on you. Kili was about to go after you, but I convinced him to go after Azog instead.”

Fili looked back and forth between them and swallowed. “And...” He winced at the grating voice. “Azog?”  
“Vanquished.” Thorin squeezed his hands. “He fell, and his army was crushed.”  
Fili swallowed hard and looked at his brother again.  
“I... I refused to declare you dead before I would lay my eyes on your body.” Kili swallowed. “I wouldn’t give up on you, dead or alive. If nothing else, I wanted to give you a decent grave...”

Fili shook his head again and let go of Kili’s hand. It was a painstaking undertaking, but he managed to touch his brother’s cheek.

“I cannot thank you enough for not giving up on me,” he rasped. “For if you hadn’t, I’d have died there. As it is, you found me in time.” Fili cleared his throat. “How did you...”

Kili swallowed and reached for his belt and a small pouch that hung there. From there, he produced the braid that he placed on the blanket. 

“It landed at my feet,” he said huskily. “I wanted to go and come to your aid... I really did.”  
“Brother...” Fili managed a smile, his hand still resting on Kili’s cheek. “The only thing I wanted is for you not having to share my fate. And you didn’t. Not only that, Kili... because you lived, you could come and save me.”

Fili fell silent and his eyes came to rest on the braid.

“I believe Azog meant it as a bait, to lure us into coming after you,” Thorin said.  
“I’m glad you didn’t.” Fili met his eyes. “It would only have gotten all of us killed.”  
“But...” Kili gulped down a sob. “But Fili...”  
“Brother.” He smiled at his brother. “I am glad you heeded my words and left me. I can stand torture and pain, Kili. But I can’t stand to see you tortured and in pain.”

Kili lowered his eyes.  
“Kili?”  
After a moment, Kili was able to look up again, but his eyes were clouded in pain and misty with unshed tears. “I would take back my words and deeds, Fili. What I did, what I said in Laketown... I shamed myself and the Line of Durin and I...”  
“Kili...”  
“Kili.” Thorin’s voice was rough, but gentle. “We talked about this.”  
“I should have stayed at your side...”  
“Kili.” Fili smiled at him. “There, up on Ravenhill, was the only moment of my life that I did not want you at my side. I wanted you gone, otherwise we would both have been captured, and we would both be dead now. After having been forced to watch each other be tortured. No...” He caressed his brother’s cheek. “No, this is indefinitely better. You came after me when it mattered, and you saved me. You could never have done so had you stayed, and uncle Thorin and Amad would have lost both of us.”

Kili lowered his eyes again and swallowed hard, and when he looked up, a tear had escaped and was trickling down his cheek.

“I would never have you suffer like that,” he whispered.  
“Neither would I have wanted you to suffer it,” Fili replied.

Kili reached out and rested his own hand on Fili’s cheek, his thumb tracing the spot where the braid should have been. Most of those hairs hadn’t been torn out with their roots so the hair was growing back, but it would be a long time before the braid would be restored.

Kili let go of his face and leaned back. His eyes met Fili’s, and with a small, somewhat sad smile, Kili pulled out a knife. And before Fili or Thorin could do or say anything, he had severed the left of his temple braids as close to the skin as possible.

And as Fili stared open-mouthed at his brother, Kili put the severed braid next to the one that was already resting on the blanket, in Fili’s lap. Black lying next to golden.

Kili looked up again, and their eyes met.

“I belong with my brother,” Kili whispered. 

Wordlessly, the two brothers embraced, and Thorin silently got up, leaving the brothers to each other, arms slung around each other and foreheads pressed together.


	8. Britchell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tigerliliesandcherryblossoms 
> 
> Body swap for a whole day Mitchers

Mitchell getting drunk usually led to Mitchell getting nostalgic and wistful. On bad days, it led to Mitchell getting teary-eyed and ending up having a serious guilt-trip. 

Like today.

All Anders had wanted was to end a dreadful day with a beer, not having to drag Mitchell home as a bundle of tears and almost carrying him up the stairs.

“Christ, you’re heavy, you know that?” Anders, who had slung one of Mitchell’s arms around his shoulders and one of his own around Mitchell’s hips, was huffing and puffing like the big bad wolf when he had finally reached the flat where he unceremoniously dropped Mitchell on the sofa.

Mitchell looked up at him, eyes red-rimmed and glassy with tears.

“Fuck, don’t give me the puppy eyes, Mitch.” 

But what could a god do when his lover looked at him like that? Sweet fuck all. With a sigh, Anders poured two shots of vodka and sat down next to Mitchell, offering him a drink.  
Mitchell took it and downed it without blinking.

“You know that I’m not bothered by that, right? We’ve been through this. Several times.”  
“You keep saying that.” Mitchell shrugged.  
“I keep saying that because it’s fucking true.” Anders knocked back his own drink. “But honestly? I still wouldn’t want to be in your skin.”  
Mitchell looked up at that, eyes burning even more. “Anders, I don’t want to be in my skin but I don’t have a fucking choice about it!”

Their eyes met, and Anders’s heart melted. A bit. Like it usually did when Mitchell looked at him like that. And as usual, he wished there was something he could do. But other than doing what he did best, which was using his body to make Mitchell forget about his own, he could never think of anything better.

They ended up in bed with Anders giving Mitchell an epic blowjob, and while that didn’t make everything good and roses and rainbows again, Mitchell could fall asleep without crying himself to sleep as he often did in that state.

With a sigh, Anders curled up around him as well as he could and closed his eyes.

* * *

When Anders woke up, he immediately noticed that something was off. After a moment he opened his eyes, and then he realised it was because they had somehow managed to swap positions last night and Mitchell was now spooning him. 

Hang on. 

Mitchell wasn’t spooning him. He was curled up around his back, but he felt too small.

Anders slowly turned around and...

...looked at his own sleeping face.

His scream had... Anders? The other guy? ...out of the bed in two seconds flat.

Both men stared at each other with eyes widening almost to the point of no return.

“Who the fuck are you!” Anders’s body suddenly yelled and without warning, jumped back into the bed, attempting to strangle Anders. “What did you do to Anders!” The voice was Anders’s, but somehow, Anders could recognise Mitchell’s voice. The Irish accent was probably what did it.

Anders was being attacked by his own body containing Mitchell, and whatever or wherever he now was, it was someone Mitchell didn’t recognise.

“Mitchell!” Anders tried to wrestle him off. “Mitchell, the fuck? Stop that! It’s me!”

And suddenly, the pressure around his neck was gone and the body of Anders, apparently containing Mitchell, started to shake.

“Mitchell...” Anders took a deep, shaky breath. “Mitchell... it’s you, right? Because... Shit... are we tripping balls? Fuck...” It felt surreal. It was surreal. It was a fucking Dali painting having come to life and fucking a Picasso.

Mitchell didn’t reply.

“So... you’re me now?” Anders swallowed hard. “And, who the fuck am I? Am I... Christ, I’m you, right? I’m you? Or... inside you? Just not like that... Christ!!”

Mitchell was still as if turned to stone.

“Mitchell?”

A single tear suddenly trickled down... Anders’s? Mitchell’s?... cheek.

“Mitch?”  
“Anders?” It was no more than a thin whisper.  
“It’s me, and as far as I know I’m inside your body, for some... oh fuck...”

Mitchell... no doubt that it was Mitch, and in Anders’s body, reached out and softly, touched Anders’s cheek. Anders felt a shiver creep down his spine.

“Is that what I look like now...?” Mitchell whispered, his voice brittle and close to breaking.

Anders was freaked out by the way his own face contorted into a grimace of pain, but the realisation of what this meant to Mitchell was stronger. Like this, it was the closest Mitchell could ever have gotten to a mirror image of himself. 

Mitchell was seeing his own face for the first time in eight decades.

The hesitant, questioning finger slowly sunk away from his face, and after a single, hoarse sob, Mitchell crumpled into a heap and went utterly and very thoroughly to pieces.

Anders, trapped in Mitchell’s body, could do nothing else, than gather Mitchell, trapped in Anders’s body, up into his arms and hold him. A feat made easier that it was now him with the larger frame. It took Mitchell ages to calm down again, as every time he looked up, he burst into tears again.

Eventually, though, Mitchell managed to finally calm down. It was still bizarre.

They looked at each other again. 

“Am I a vampire now?” Anders suddenly realised that...

True. He didn’t have a heartbeat anymore. Which was seriously freaking him out the moment he discovered it, as it sunk in what this would entail for him.

“Come on, calm...” This time it was Mitchell who was able to keep his cool. But being embraced by a smaller body instead of a taller one was freaking Anders out as well. Hearing his own voice trying to calm him was freaking him out even more. 

And then there was the problem of the vampire strength. Trying to break free of the embrace because he felt claustrophobic in it ended with Anders’s body being flung against the wall.

“Shit!” He immediately was on his feet again and knelt down next to his body.  
Mitchell looked up at him with murder in his eyes. “Jayus, Anders, get your shit together! I’m as freaked out as you are, mate.”  
“Yes, but you’re used to being a freak!”

Being socked in the face by your own body was less painful than it was freaky. Anders was on his feet in an instant and snarled. The fact that his world suddenly went monochrome made him almost faint.

“Anders! Stop! Come back!”

He had shifted. He had fucking shifted into a vampire. He knew exactly what it looked like even if he didn’t have a fucking clue about how it had happened. But then, as he calmed, the colour returned to his vision.

“Stop freaking out like that!” Mitchell got up. “You’ll kill your own body and then what? You have to remain me for the rest of eternity!”

At that moment, something inside Anders snapped. “Yeah? Then I can finally do something about that wardrobe for a mentally degraded colour blind freak!”  
“Who are you calling a freak you sorry little excuse for a god!”  
“At least I look like one and not like a mop being used as a coat rack for puke ugly T-shirts!”  
“One more time and I put on one of those puke ugly T-shirts and NOTHING else and run around outside screaming that I’m a chicken!”

“I’ll fucking kill you if you so much as think about putting one of those ugly cleaning rags onto my body!”  
“Cleaning rags? You think everyone has to look like they’ve just hopped out of the crack of a CEO’s arse?”

Anders gasped for air like a fish that had been washed ashore.

“I think I need a haircut,” he said darkly. “This body could use some serious grooming.” He headed for the bathroom.  
“You probably can’t even use a mirror, you dipshit!”  
Anders took his clippers and switched them on. “Don’t think I need a mirror for that.”  
“Don’t you fucking dare.”  
Anders adjusted the setting to zero.  
“That’s it.”

Mitchell left the bathroom, and, clippers still buzzing ominously, Anders followed. 

Mitchell was just putting on Anders’s sweatpants and a T-shirt.  
“What the fuck?”  
Mitchell threw his own, too large, black leather coat on. “I’m getting a tattoo,” he said and headed for the door. “I think your butt would look great with a cute little pony and a few hearts.”  
“NO YOU DON’T!” Anders threw the clippers away and clamped both arms around Mitchell’s... well... technically his own ribcage.

Mitchell wheezed. “Anders!”

Realizing that he had again forgotten about the vampire strength, Anders let go and looked at the face before him that was turning from bluish to a more normal colour again. 

“Shit...” 

He staggered backwards and spun around, blindly stumbling away as far s he could.

Moments later, Anders found himself curled up against the wall in the corner of the bedroom.

“Anders...” Mitchell lowered himself down beside him. “I’m sorry...”  
“I’m sorry too...” Anders didn’t even bother to uncurl. “I’m freaking the fuck out.”  
“Yeah, I know.” Mitchell moved closer. “Me too. But you’re probably right, you know? I am used to being a freak.”

Anders looked up. It was hard meeting eyes that should have been his own. “What the fuck are we going to do now?”  
Mitchell shook his head with a shrug. “I don’t know any more than you do.”

After a moment, Anders managed a small smile. Again, it was freaky, because he knew exactly what that smile would look like. 

“Probably feels strange to have a heartbeat again.”  
The wistful smile looked out of place on Anders’s features. “Yeah... still, would prefer if it was me own heart, you know?”  
“Yeah, that feeling is entirely mutual.”

After another moment, Mitchell scratched his chin. “Do you think Olaf could help us with that?”  
“What the fuck would Olaf have to do with this?”  
“I can’t imagine this happened without any... godly interference.”  
“Hang on...” Anders leaned forward. “Can you do the Bragi thing?”  
“The what now?”  
“The voice.”  
“I... I wouldn’t know how to do that! Why don’t you try if you still have it?”

Anders closed his eyes and focussed, and true, there it was. He told Mitchell to relocate to the bed and wait for him, but Mitchell remained seated.

“I felt it,” he said. “But I didn’t really felt compelled to do so.”  
“I know.” Anders adjusted his position and stared at his hands in shit ass ugly knitted fingerless gloves. “It only works on mortals.”

There was a moment of silence.

Then Anders looked up. “Bragi, you asshole.”  
“What?”  
“I’m sure as fuck that it was Bragi. Remember we talked about not wanting to be in your skin?”  
“Oh fuck...” Anders’s face went pale as Mitchell realised what Anders meant. “I’m so fucking sorry...”  
“I don’t know if...” Anders shrugged. “Maybe he just wanted to fuck his own body for a change.”

They both looked at each other again.

“I am not going to have my own cock up my ass.”  
“Technically,” Mitchell said. “That’s my ass.”  
“Fucking weird either way.” Anders dropped his head again.

“I know.” Mitchell shuffled closer. “But see... that way you could experience things like I do. And I’d get to know how it feels for you. A great learning experience, really.”  
Anders looked up. “So either I have to have my own cock up ... this... ass, or I would have to fuck my own ass?”  
“I’d say the latter, if it really is Bragi who wants to fuck himself for a change.”

“You know...” Anders rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. That wasn’t entirely unpleasant, to have his fingers run through the mass of curls. “I told him often enough he could go fuck himself.”  
“Time to make good on your words, then.”

Anders dropped his head against the wall. “I hate him.”

Then, after a moment, he looked up at Mitchell and his body. “You need a sticky label on your forehead.”  
Said forehead crinkled into a frown.  
“Saying Mitchell Inside.”  
“I hate you.” Mitchell offered him a hand. 

Anders let himself be helped up, and then both men were standing face to face and none of them knew how to make a start.  
They looked at each other in an uncomfortable silence. 

“Say,” Anders said and rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. “Which one of us wouldn’t have a mirror image anymore?”  
“I have no fucking clue,” Mitchell replied, his voice suddenly shaky. “You still have Bragi, but you shifted, so I don’t know fuck...”  
“If I shifted that means I’m a vampire and don’t have a mirror image, right?”  
“Fuck if I know!” Mitchell ran both hands through his hair. “This doesn’t make any fucking sense!”

Their eyes met again.

“Only one way to find out,” Anders said after a moment.

They headed for the bathroom, and hesitantly, stepped inside. There was indeed only one mirror image, and it was Mitchell’s. 

Mitchell didn’t fall apart again, but there were tears in his eyes.

“You know,” he said slowly. It’s said that vampires don’t have mirror image because the devil took away that piece of their soul to show that we’re his.”  
“Seems like that’s still valid.”  
“And seems like the fangs and shit are a physical thing.”

“That feels so fucking weird.” Anders reached out and touched the nose in the face that should normally be his. In the mirror, his finger hovered just in the air.  
“Tell me about it.”  
Anders dropped his hands with a sigh. “Can I at least take off these scratchy atrocities?”  
Mitchell shook his head with a crooked smile. “By all means.”

The second glove hit the far wall immediately after the first.

“Now?”  
Mitchell in Anders’s body shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe if we close our eyes?”

They tried kissing with their eyes closed. 

“Didn’t feel half bad,” Anders said.  
“No, and now you know why I’m always complaining about getting a crick.”

Emboldened, Anders closed his hands around Mitchell’s hips and lifted him. Mitchell slung his legs around him and held on, clinging to his own body like a baby monkey. The second attempt at kissing while Anders carried Mitchell to the bedroom had them both end up in a heap of giggles after collapsing onto the bed.

But from then on, it turned into an adventure. Exploring things in ways that seemed familiar and yet felt utterly alien. 

Anders discovered what Mitchell really meant when he said that his hands felt so warm, almost hot on his skin. He hadn’t even realised how cold this body was until he felt those hands that were usually his own trail across the skin of the body he was currently trapped in.

To Mitchell, it felt indescribably intense, having his heartbeat pick up speed, his breathing hurt in his chest. And feeling enveloped by the larger frame of the body that he usually inhabited. 

There was a lot to explore. A lot of things to try. At one point most of the familiar ease returned and they laughed a lot, too. 

“If you ever wondered how it felt giving yourself a blowjob...” Anders leaned back, looking down at the unfamiliar view of broad chest covered in dark hair. Well, Mitchell’s cock was definitely a great view, no matter the angle.

“Better serve my Lord Bragi well.”  
“You’d better...” The rest of Anders’s reply ended in a strangled groan. 

Thankfully, from a certain point of arousal onwards, thinking too much about the situation became completely impossible and completely unnecessary as well. 

And it wasn’t as if he had seen, and could thus not recognise, his own ass like this before, spread out and ready to be fucked, so he could easily forget about the fact whose ass it was. Mitchell was biting into a pillow, if to just stifle his obscene moans or to make sure Anders wouldn’t be distracted by listening to what was his own voice while fucking his body was of no consequence. 

After that, they got even more adventurous. Anders was able to let go of his last inhibitions and gave in to the urge to know what his own cock would feel like. Taste like. Discovering what Mitchell felt when he was giving him head. 

It felt pretty amazing. He had a very nice cock. Not that he hadn’t known that before, but experiencing it first hand was something different. Or first mouth, as it were. For a second he struggled with the weird thought that it was a shame he couldn’t give himself blowjobs.

At one point, Mitchell asked Anders if the latter would like to try out feeding as well, but Anders drew the line there. True, in this body blood would probably taste fantastic, but he didn’t want to be biting his own body, he hated blood and in the end, he had to admit he didn’t know if he would be able to control himself like Mitchell did, who had decades of experience of drinking without killing.

Pizza for dinner, and shortly after that, they both had to call it a day. They had been pretty busy since this morning.

* * *

When Anders woke up the next morning, it was to the sound of rain from outside and the sound of the toilet flushing coming from the bathroom. He didn’t dare to open his eyes as he listened to the water in the sink. He only opened them when the bedroom door opened again.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to see you,” he said to Mitchell who was walking towards the bed in all his naked glory.  
“Same here.” He lowered himself down next to Anders and pulled him in to cuddle.

Usually, Anders wasn’t much for cuddling, but this time he welcomed the embrace that told him he was again who he was supposed to be. 

“You wouldn’t have shaved my head, would you?”  
Anders opened his eyes. “You wouldn’t have given me a My Little Pony tattoo, would you?”  
“I think you’d have killed me if I had.”  
“And end up stuck in your skin? No fucking thank you.”

Mitchell ran a finger along Anders’s jaw line. “I wouldn’t have wanted that, Anders. But you know... it felt amazing.”  
“Being me?”  
“Being alive.”  
Anders’s eyes softened. “You know, after yesterday... Maybe we should make some offerings to the gods and see if they can do something about that.”  
Mitchell adjusted his position, propping himself up onto one elbow. “I don’t think it’s going to happen.”  
Anders, who was lying on his back, smiled up at him. “It can’t hurt to try, can it?”

Both of them smiled now. 

“We could ask Axl. I mean, Odin is the god of wisdom and magic, after all.”  
Mitchell traced two fingers down Anders’s cheek. “Would you really humiliate yourself and beg a favour like that from your brother?”

As an answer, Anders just kissed him.


	9. Anders/Fem!OC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous  
> Bottom Anders, no matter who tops
> 
> * * *
> 
> Those of you who know my fic [This Thing Inside](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4114048) may remember that scene in chapter 27, where Anders mentioned to Gaia he had dreamed about her doing him with a strap on. Well. I know who you are, nonnie, and I am sure you’ll like this.  
>  _“Oh...” He smiled crookedly. “Your hands on my skin, your lips on my cock.” He lifted he hand now and kissed her fingertips. “Your lips on mine,” he breathed against her knuckles. “Sometimes I would think of you riding me, and sometimes, I would fuck you into the mattress... and once I even imagined you doing me with a strap-on.”_  
>  _Gaia almost chocked on her coke. “Bloody hell...” She wiped her face with the back of her hand. “Are you fucking serious?”_
> 
>  
> 
> _For another first time in his life, Anders felt unfamiliar heat in his face and could only assume he was blushing. He couldn’t meet her eyes anymore. “You asked,” he muttered._  
>  _“I know.” She took their joined hands and closed both of hers around his. “And that turned you on?”_  
>  _“Yes,” he forced out between tight lips. “And that says something because normally I am pretty backdoor shy.”_
> 
> * * *

Showering together was usually a quite hot and satisfying experience and both of them were really, really clean afterwards. Not so today. Of course they were clean, but while at other times showering turned into shower sex, this time it had been only a little more than a shower. Lots of roaming hands, made slippery by soap, but it had been warm and sensual, not hot and bothering.

Gaia had told Anders she had other plans for the night. And now he was lying on the bed, hair slightly moist, and waited for Gaia to make an appearance. She had been rather smug and really secretive. 

And when she now emerged from the en-suite, Anders could only whistle under his breath. She was wearing a new set of underwear, but contrary to her usual style, this set of black lace left very little to imagination. Anders’s dick twitched. She looked hot as fuck.

Gaia noticed his reaction and smiled, a slow, sensual smile that made Anders’s dick twitch again. It was becoming very much interested in the ongoing. 

“I got us a present,” Gaia said.  
“Us?”  
“Well... yes. I guess so. I hope so, at least.” She headed for her wardrobe and opened the door, then dug around inside, at the bottom between her shoe boxes. 

When she came back to the bed, she carried a box that was definitely not a shoe box. It was much smaller, and black, and so discreetly decorated that Anders immediately recognised it as something containing a sex toy of quality and class. His dick began to throb at the thought.

“So.” He adjusted his position. “A gift for us.”  
“Yes.” Gaia smiled almost coyly, but it was one of the smiles that made Anders suppress the urge to grab her and fuck her against the nearest wall. “And I really hope you like it.”  
“I’m sure I will.” Anders smiled and slowly sat up. 

“See, I thought about two things,” Gaia said as she opened the box with the lid still in Anders’s line of sight. “One was the fact that after our wedding, you mentioned that your ass now belongs officially to me.”  
Anders swallowed hard and adjusted his position again.  
“And the other thing was that you mentioned once that... well. You had dreamed of me doing you with a strap on.”

Anders exhaled softly. 

“So.” The coy, sexy smile turned into something slightly worried as she bit her lower lip. “So I got this... if you want. You also mentioned you’re pretty backdoor shy, so we don’t have to use it. But I thought... well... I looked at those, and...”

Anders swallowed hard. “I... I don’t know what to say...”  
Gaia lowered her eyes. “It was just a thought...”  
“Hey.”  
She looked up again.  
“Thinking is totally okay. So is dreaming. Dirty dreaming even more so.”  
Gaia chuckled softly. “Yes so in fact... this thought has been bothering me on and off ever since you mentioned it and I really...”  
“You really want to see me on all fours with my ass in the air.”

Gaia swallowed hard. “I’m sorry if...”  
Anders shook his head and sat up. Kneeling before her, he took both of her hands in his and winked. “I told you dirty dreams were all right, didn’t I? And really, babe...” He finally dared to look into the box. Plain black, sleek, and somehow, very tasteful for a sex toy. “That must have cost a fortune.”  
“It did.” Gaia shrugged. “But the cheaper ones just looked gross.”  
This time it was Anders who chuckled. “And... do you actually know what to do with this?”  
Gaia’s coy smile was back. “Well I did read the manual. And I do have a gay colleague at work and he was very helpful with advice.”

Anders looked back and forth between her and the strap-on.

“We really don’t have to go there,” Gaia said softly. “I can totally understand if you really want to keep that spot of your body to yourself.”  
Anders smiled a little crookedly. “I have to admit despite my usual misgivings that the thought of you doing this was rather... arousing.” His dick joined the conversation with another twitch. The tip was glistening wet now.  
Gaia followed his gaze downward. “So... seems like one of us has nothing against this experiment.”

At that, Anders had to laugh. “Jesus, babe... no matter what I expect... sex with you will never be boring.”  
Gaia leaned forward and kissed his lips. “I really hope so.”

Anders pushed the box aside and closed his arms around her hips to pull her close. Their kisses quickly turned from gentle and passionate to hot and messy. Then Gaia broke free of the kiss and pushed him onto his back. Their eyes med, pupils blown wide with lust.

Gaia dragged one hand down Anders’s chest and gently scraped across his right nipple with a fingernail. Anders inhaled with a sharp hiss.

“Good babe, you’re so hot,” he whispered hoarsely, his harsh breaths turning into a moan when Gaia lowered herself down and her hair fell around her face, caressing the skin of his thighs. She really didn’t do that often, so the sensation of her tongue made Anders moan shamelessly like a cheap whore. 

When Gaia straightened up, he gasped at the sudden loss of the wet heat around him. And as she looked at him under lowered eyelids, her breathing heavy and her lips moist, Anders shook his head and tried to keep his voice under control, with little success.

“Babe...” He rasped. “God... I’m yours, you know that? Body and soul... you can have me, if you want it...”  
“You sure?” Gaia replied in a shaky whisper.  
“Go for it, babe. I can always freak out later.”  
Gaia smiled and licked her lips. “You say stop if you freak out, okay?”  
Anders met her eyes, his chest heaving in heavy breaths. “Okay...”

His breathing coming hard and fast, Anders watched as Gaia unpacked the strap-on and a bottle of lube. He was a little freaked out, if he was being honest. But he was also turned on like there was no tomorrow, so he just watched with his heart racing like mad as she opened the bottle and coated her finger. Before she touched him, however, she pressed him back into the pillow with a fiery, open-mouthed kiss. Anders surrendered, opening his lips and his legs with a groan.

The finger slid down his perineum and between his buttocks, and he clenched reflexively. She stopped her finger but not the kiss, and after a second or two, Anders forced himself to relax. This was completely unchartered territory for both of them, and he expected no immediate result. 

But then her finger touched him, there where no one else had touched him since he had been able to take care of his business, and while it felt weird, and intrusive, and somehow embarrassing, it also felt piping hot to have her so intimately close. Like she really owned him, body and soul. 

Her finger began to circle, carefully, softly, hardly touching him at all, and the sensation was alien, but utterly arousing. The tissue there was so sensitive to touch and her finger was...  
Anders didn’t quite know what happened, but suddenly something had given way and her fingers was inside him.  
He couldn’t help but moan, the sensation was too intense. And quite obviously, it was the same for her, because Gaia was moaning against his lips. 

They broke their kiss, and when she moved her finger further in, Anders arched his back against it. It felt invasive, strange even, but he wanted more. And then, as he felt her finger move further in, there was a sudden and fierce explosion of sensation that he yelped and almost jumped off the bed.

“Christ,” he gasped, voice rough and shaking. “Gaia...”  
“Found it,” Gaia whispered against the skin of his neck.”  
“Found what?” Anders gasped breathlessly. Gaia curled her finger again, this time eliciting a harsh moan. “Your sweet spot.”

Anders was literally seeing stars now; he couldn’t open his eyes anymore. Gaia gently bit down into the soft skin where his neck and shoulder met and stroked her finger across that spot a third time. Anders no longer knew nor cared what kind of sounds he was making. 

He could feel her finger move, felt the touch as an intense mix of pleasure and pain. “God...” He licked his dry lips. “What are you doing to me babe... what...”  
Gaia moved her lips against the shell of his ear. Her voice was a whisper, low and sinful, almost a purr. “I’m finger fucking you.”  
Anders pressed his head into the pillow with a loud moan, he almost came right then and there. And then the pressure was suddenly gone and she sat up.

Anders could finally open his eyes again, but found his vision slightly cloudy. He was breathing so hard and fast that his chest hurt when he watched Gaia done the strap on. It looked rather smooth and he realised that this wasn’t the first time... she had practised this. Another moan forced its way past his lips. It was almost too hot to watch.

She was watching him in turn as she coated the dildo in lube, and the way she looked at him, lips parted and eyelids lowered, with her nipples standing out hard against the translucent lace and moisture seeping through the panties, made Anders vision cloud over even more. 

He had to close his eyes. It was getting almost too much now. His whole body was suddenly so hungry for her touch that he could hardly wait anymore to feel her skin on his.

It was the same sensation at first, slightly intrusive, but the sensitive skin had loosened and he felt his body just give, and he couldn’t contain the sounds he made. And he didn’t give a shit anymore. He arched his back, and then, after slow, careful and gentle moves it was inside, their bodies meeting again, and Gaia placed both hands on his chest to steady herself. 

Their eyes met. 

“How does this feel?”  
Anders’s voice was hoarse and husky, a trembling whisper. “God... babe... I...”  
“You want this?” There is was again, that low, dirty purr.  
Anders closed his eyes. “Yes...” His voice broke. “Yes, babe... give it to me... I’m yours, I’m... God!”  
“I thought you weren’t a god anymore,” Gaia said with a soft chuckle and started to move.  
Anders was no longer in any state to reply.

She moved cautiously and slowly at first, she had no way of knowing if she would go too hard or too fast, but to judge by the sounds, she was doing a pretty good job of it. She just wanted more. So she pulled out again, listening to Anders’s moan that was closer to a wail.  
With a small grin she grabbed a pillow. “Up,” she said.  
Anders obediently lifted his hips. 

Then their eyes met again, and this time, Gaia slowly entered his body again without leaning on him. She was kneeling between his legs now and moved slowly, and a sudden gasp told her she had gotten the angle right. She kept the angle and the pacing, her heart racing and the throbbing between her legs almost painful, watching him writhe and fist the sheets and listening to his moans becoming louder, and more desperate. 

With a smile, Gaia reached out and cupped his stones in one hand, and with his moans turning into sharp and heavy gasps, she closed the other hand around his dick. He bucked into her touch with a breathless whisper of her name. 

Gaia tightened her grip and moved her hand in time with the thrust of her hips, but after four or five strokes she felt him begin to tremble.  
And then he came on a bellow that made her throat hurt just by listening to it. The thick white liquid spurted out between her fingers and coated his belly in pearly ropes of white. 

“Gaia...” He gasped. “I can’t... I can’t...”  
Gaia realised it was getting too much and slowly, withdrew from his body.

Anders sagged with another moan. And after Gaia had removed the strap-on and looked at him again, he was a total mess with his belly coated in thick, white liquid, his hair completely mussed and moist with sweat, in fact, his whole body was covered in a sheen of moisture, and he still had his legs spread wide. His breathing was still coming hard and fast, and his eyes were pinched shut. 

Her smile softening, Gaia moved to his side, settled down and gathered his upper body up into her arms. Anders hid his face into her shoulder with a shaky sigh.

“You okay?”  
Anders hummed against her skin.  
“Should we do that again, maybe?” She ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it back.  
“Not anytime soon,” he whispered hoarsely. “I think I came my brains out.”  
“Isn’t that a good thing?”  
“Can’t think.”

Gaia let her hands idly trail up and down his back. “I hope I wasn’t too hard on you.”  
Anders didn’t reply.  
“Hey. You okay?”  
He nodded.  
“You’re tense.”

Anders finally managed to look up. He had a hard time meeting her eyes. Gaia rested a hand against his cheek.

“I just had my ass fucked,” he finally stated, as if he couldn’t quite believe what had happened.  
“Yes. You seemed to enjoy it.”  
“That’s what worries me.”  
“And why does it worry you?”

Anders licked his lips. “I honestly don’t know,” he finally admitted.  
“Maybe because it’s a new kink?”  
At that, he could finally smile. “Yeah... probably.”

Gaia placed a gentle kiss onto his lips. “How do you feel about returning the favour?”  
Anders huffed out soft chuckle under his breath. “I think my dick died and went to heaven.”  
Gaia couldn’t suppress a laugh at that.  
“But...” The light returned into Anders’s eyes, together with a little, slightly mischievous smile. “I could think of something.”

Gaia licked her lips as she watched him sit up. He didn’t break eye contact with her as she slowly tugged her panties down. Then he unceremoniously lowered himself down on her.

“Anders...” She chuckled. “You’re still covered in...”  
“Oh yes.” A wicked smile. “Why should you be any better off than me?”  
Gaia shook her head with a soft smile. “Anders, you’re impossible.”  
“Impossible...” Anders replied, “... is not part of my vocabulary, babe.”

With that, he slid down her body, lowered his head between her legs, and, after placing a few gentle bites onto the insides of her thighs, made her forget her own name.


	10. FiKi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wetherebelskies
> 
> Hey! I'd like to ask for a prompt but it's really vague. .. so basically irish folk band Fili and Kili killing it on the fiddles with the other dwarves... beyond that anything you can think of! I just really like that AU xD
> 
> So you know about duelling banjos? Have duelling fiddles. 
> 
> I didn't make this up. [These guys are amazing. ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b4EgyhlVokg%20)

The pub was crowded and the people were cheering whenever one of the band members came on stage to sort out a piece of equipment. 

They hadn’t been here for years. This is where they had started, five years ago, as a loose collection of guys loving their instruments and their music, met at various open mic nights. Now, after the release of their fifth CD, they had decided to do a _Back to the Roots_ tour, and do gigs in various pubs like they used to in the beginnings. It had given their tour manager several major headaches.  
Fili and Kili were still tuning their fiddles, and kept exchanging glances with each other and Bofur, who was playing random bits and pieces on his whistle. 

Here, in the _Burglar and Dragon_ , was where they had their first real gig as a band and not just a few guys jamming together. This is where their _Back to the Roots_ tour would end.

“You know...” Fili plucked at one of the strings. “I sometimes wish we could just go back, every now and then. Be pub fiddlers and no one gives a shit about us.”  
Kili chuckled. “Just a handful of random guys, right?”  
Fili smiled wistfully. “Yeah but... I kinda like making a lot of money instead of only getting free drinks.”  
“Come on lads! Free drinks are nothing to look down on!” Bofur thrust out his whistle like a weapon.  
“Don’t worry Bofur.” Kili inspected his bow. “We won’t forget our roots.”  
“Aye, that’s what we’re here for tonight, right?”

What they were here for tonight. Five years ago, they hadn’t even a name. Now, they were Blue Mountain, a folk band that filled concert halls. A folk band that people used in the same sentence as The Dubliners. 

Hence the crowded pub and Dawlin’s headache. Safety measures. He had almost strangled Balin with his own beard when the latter had informed his brother he had given the go-ahead for the pub tour.

The other band members slowly began to arrive on the improvised stage. Bifur and Bombur with their bodhrans, Gloin with the uilleann pipes, cheered by his brother Oin (who couldn’t hear the music, deaf as a rock as he was, but was always in the audience when his brother was on stage).

Thorin settled down with his harp, Dori with the banjo, Nori behind the drum kit and finally Ori with his guitar who positioned himself at the microphone. There was still a lot of fond teasing going on about how everyone was already cringing when Ori had taken the mic back then, the night they had met, and how their ears had almost fallen off when Ori had started to sing. Appearances can be deceiving. And knitted fingerless gloves were suddenly a thing. 

Bilbo, the landlord, was smiling and waving at them while busily drawing one pint after the other.

They started with a few classics. 

Rocky Road to Dublin. Star of the County Down. The Foggy Dew. Spancil Hill. Fields of Athenrye.

Then they got going for real. 

Seven drunken Nights. The Wild Rover. Whiskey in the Jar. Follow me up to Carlow. The Irish Rover. All for me Grog. The Annie B. The Black Velvet Band. 

After a small break, just long enough to down a pint, Fili and Kili positioned themselves at the front centre of the stage.

Kili plucked a few strings. Fili rested his own fiddle on his shoulder and winked. 

It’s like duelling banjos, Kili had explained when they had tried this for the first time. Only with fiddles.

Which always got the crowds cheering loudly.

Over the years, the two had perfected the act and had moved on from the classic tunes of the duelling banjos and expanded it. 

The two fiddlers looked at each other and grinned. 

Kili plucking the strings like a tease. Fili touching the bow to his own fiddle with a grin. Both of them speeding up, until to the audience it seemed as if their fingers blurred. 

People cheered and yelled and spilled their drinks. Bombur, Ori and Dori played in the background while Nori put up his feet behind the drums and crossed his arms with a grin.

They took turns again, resting the fiddles on their hips like shotguns while grinning at each other. Bofur started clapping and the audience joined him.

Fili played his fiddle behind his back. Kili clamped his fiddle between his knees. Fili stood on one leg and brought the bow forward reaching under the lifted leg. 

Then Kili took his bow into his mouth and held the fiddle with two hands before him, moving it up and down to play.

The crowd went ballistic.

Then Kili stepped closer to his brother and, still grinning at each other, they took it up a notch. Fili lowered his bow, fingers still moving swiftly, and Kili touched his bow to his brother’s fiddle and played. Then he stood behind his brother and slung an arm around Fili’s neck, thus knotted together they could still play on their fiddles, each on his own. They were laughing at each other now as they stepped apart. 

The audience cheered and yelled and clapped and Bilbo nimbly weaselled through the crowd with a platter full of drinks.

That was their act that had made them famous. Fili and Kili, always in synch, always knowing exactly what the other did and where he was, like a solid unit on stage. That, and their impossible fiddle stunts, were what made Blue Mountain special.

The two fiddlers bowed to the audience, and Bilbo finally arrived with their pints.


	11. FiKi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Striving-artist
> 
> FiKi. and anything where they do the wonderful flipping between being pranking happy kids, and then turn back into princes and heirs to get the job done/kick ass/lecture/anything ?
> 
>  _Men uzbad-dashatû damâm Durinul_ : I am a prince of Durin's blood

“Master Fundinson, Kili is sticking out his tongue!”  
“No I didn’t!”  
“Yes he did!”  
“Did not!”  
“Did too!”

“Silence!”

Kili and Fili hastily straightened up and pressed the palms of their hands onto their desks. 

Balin pinched the bridge of his nose. “Did you listen to one thing I was saying?”  
“You were explaining about the grammatical differences between _mahasjiri_ and _mahamasjiri_ ,” Fili said, straightening up. “The former being singular and the latter plural.”  
Balin inclined his head, eyebrows raised. “Very well. Seems like my words did not disappear into the void after all.” He turned around again towards the large blackboard. “Surprisingly.”

Fili smiled smugly at his brother.  
Kili stuck his tongue out again. “Know-it-all.”  
“Master Fundinson, Kili is sticking out his tongue again!”  
Balin’s shoulders heaved with a heavy sigh.  
“Master Fundinson, Fili is kicking me!”  
“No I didn’t!”  
“Yes you did!”  
“It was an accident!”

“If you two _lalukh_ don’t stop that immediately...” Balin said very slowly and turned around, “...then I will have Dwalin cancel your fighting lesson this afternoon.”

Fili and Kili exchanged a dismayed look and immediately straightened up. The rest of the lesson in Kuhzdul went smoothly and without interruption. 

“I shall see you tomorrow, lads.” Balin said as the two young princes dried their quills and cleared their desks. “Give my regards to my brother.”  
“Will do, Balin!” Fili grabbed his brother’s arm. “See you tomorrow!”

With that, the two were out of the door, followed by Balin who was shaking his head with a fond if somewhat exasperated smile as he locked the door. 

Fili and Kili were already out of sight and jogging down the hallway towards the training halls. 

“Beat you to it!” Fili broke into a run.  
“Not fair!” Kili set off after him. “Wait for me, Fee!”  
Fili just laughed and vanished around a corner.

They raced each other towards the training halls, where Dwalin was already waiting for them, his arms crossed and his face a thunderstorm as he laid his eyes on the princes.

Fili and Kili came to a halt and fidgeted under his glare.

“Master Fundinson?” Kili asked hesitantly, brown eyes huge. 

But for once, the puppy look didn’t work on Dwalin. The grizzled warrior uncrossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. Then he exhaled a heavy huff of breath through his nose, like an angry bull, and dug into a pouch at his belt to produce a leaf of parchment. 

The brothers moved closer together.

Dawlin, his forehead creased by ominously deep lines, thrust the parchment out at the two princes and pointed at the writing.

“You wouldn’t know who stuck this to Bombur’s back yesterday, would you?”  
Kili and Fili exchanged a quick, haunted glance.  
“Maybe those who left school with him?”

Kili was the first to break under Dawlin’s death stare.

“Fili wrote it!”  
“Traitor!” Fili almost screamed. “It was your idea, you dirty little coward!”

“SILENCE!”

Dwalin’s roar made the princes flinch, and Kili burst into tears.

“Fili, you will apologize to your brother. Now.”

Fili swallowed hard and dug the toes of his right foot into the sand. “‘m sorry, Kee.”  
“Properly!”  
Fili rolled his eyes and faced his brother. “I am sorry for calling you a dirty little coward, brother.”  
Kili wiped a hand across his nose.  
“Well?” Dawlin tapped his foot.  
“Apology accepted,” Kili muttered.

“Right,” Dwalin growled and shook his head. “Back to this.” 

The two boys stared at the parchment and the writing of _I am fat_ that they had stuck to Bombur’s back. 

“That is no way to behave, least of all for you, princes of Durin’s blood! For Mahal’s sake!” Dawlin stuffed the crumpled parchment back into the pouch. “And now get out of here, and find Bombur. I will ask him tonight at dinnertime if you made a proper apology.”

“But...” Kili nibbled his lower lip. “The lesson?”  
“No lesson,” Dwalin barked. “Now go and find Bombur and then go to your uncle and explain to him while you have no more lessons today.”

Fili swallowed hard, a little pale around the nose. Kili was crying in wet snivels.

“Out.” Dwalin waved a hand at them. “Now.”

Dragging his little brother after him, Fili left the training hall with a sense of impending doom creeping up on both of them.

* * *

After finding Bombur in the kitchen and having offered him a profound apology, under the scrutinizing stare of his father and all other kitchen employees, the two princes hadn’t been able to find Thorin and instead, had confessed their delinquency to their mother who had glowered at them and made them stand next to the door to the hearth chamber to wait for their uncle. 

Eventually, Thorin swept in through the door. “Dís! I need...” Then he narrowed his eyes. “What are you two doing here?”

Fili and Kili looked at each other.

“What is it this time?” Thorin crossed his arms. “I don’t really have time for your nonsense.”

With great difficulty, Fili confessed their crimes. And Thorin didn’t waste much time with thinking of a proper punishment, he just handed out two backhanded slaps.  
Both princes worked hard on keeping silent, despite their burning cheeks and their eyes brimming with tears.

Thorin hardly used physical punishment on them; all the harder it was now to be punished so quickly, harshly and without any emotion in their uncle’s face. 

“Dís,” Thorin said after a heavy sigh. “We have a delegation from the Iron Hills at the gates. Do you think you can make these two at least look like the princes they’re supposed to be?”  
“I’ll give it all I have,” Dís said with a shake of her head. “Come on, you two.”

She dragged the two princes to the bathing chamber and gave them a thorough scrubbing, and after they had been dressed in their official garments, proceeded to comb and braid their hair, all without her usual careful gentleness. 

“Well, they do look like princes,” she said as she presented Thorin with his nephews, clean and groomed and very subdued. “It is the best I can do right now.”

Thorin took each of their chins in one hand. “Do I have to threaten you with a week of nothing but unsweetened porridge for food or can I rely on you to act like the Sons of Durin that you are?”

“We won’t disappoint you,” Fili said gravely. _“Men uzbad-dashatû damâm Durinul.”_  
Kili straightened his back. _“Men uzbad-dashatû damâm Durinul_ , uncle Thorin.”

Thorin let go of their chins and rested a hand on their shoulder instead. “Never forget that, my sister-sons.”

They waited for another more moments until Dís had finished putting on her official attire and done her hair, and together, as the royal family, they met the delegation at the gates. 

Fili and Kili behaved exemplary during the ceremony and the subsequent dinner. Straight backs, serious faces, calm voices. Perfectly appropriate and correct use of words and phrases in the hallowed tongue. 

The sons of Fundin, their tutors and teachers, exchanged more than one look with each other. 

After the food had been cleared away, Dís excused herself and her sons who could not attend the rest of the feast due to their tender age. The three of them slowly marched out of the hall in grave silence.

As soon as the great doors had closed behind them, Kili pulled one of Fili’s braids. “You’re it!” He yelled and broke into a run.  
“Kili!” Dis grimaced.  
“ _Caragu!_ ” Fili hissed ran after him.  
“Fili!!”

Her mouth a Dís hiked up her skirts and set off after her sons and caught them squabbling over a pebble further down the hallways.

She immediately took hold of Kili’s ear.  
“Ow! Amad!”  
“You do not pull your brother’s braids!” Then she grabbed Fili’s ear as well. “And you will stop using that sort of language!”

Both her sons looked up at her with wide eyes and contrite expressions. 

“Well,” Dís said with a sigh and let go of their ears. “At least you behaved in the Great Hall.” 

After a moment, when the two brothers realised that there was no further punishment or harangue to follow, they dared to look, and smile, at each other.

“You’re it!” Fili pushed his brother in the chest and ran.

Kili sped after him, and Dís followed them home, begging Mahal to give her the strength and patience she would need to get these two into adulthood.


	12. Britchell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drakkhammerwrites  
> I’d love something Britchell that’s fun. Maybe a first Christmas with Mitchell being totally confused because Santa rides a surfboard.

“This is so fucking weird...”  
“Come on Mitchell, you knew it’s not snowing in New Zealand at Christmas, didn’t you?”  
Mitchell looked somewhat helplessly out of the window. “But it’s Christmas Eve...” He looked, for all that it was worth, like a little boy who had just discovered Santa didn’t exist.  
“So what? Come on, I told you we wouldn’t have snow!”  
“I know!” Mitchell ran both hands through his hair. “It just feels so fucking weird!”  
“We’re going to be late to the party.” Anders picked up his sunglasses. 

Mitchell rummaged around in various pockets for his own. “Why are we going to that party anyway? You said in more than one occasion you hate spending forced happy time with your brothers.”  
Anders put on his shades and shrugged. “Yeah, whatever. Axl has gotten all sentimental and wanted a family get-together.”  
“And you can’t say your little baby brother no.”

Anders pulled the shades down a bit and glared at Mitchell over the rim. “You ready or do I have to go without you?”  
After picking up the large bag the content of which were a well-kept secret, Mitchell smiled as he followed Anders out of the door. “I still think it’s sweet.”  
“Wonder if you still find it sweet when I close my legs for the next two weeks because I don’t do sweet, Dracula.”

Mitchell rolled his eyes as he put on his sunglasses, but kept his mouth shut. He walked a step behind Anders, however, and didn’t stop smiling. He did bring his face under control bas he sat down in the car, though.

“So.” Mitchell adjusted his shades as Anders started the engine. “If you’re doing Christmas this year...”  
Anders cast him a very sharp look from the corner of his eyes.  
“Are you doing presents as well?”

Anders cast a look over his shoulder and pulled out of the parking space. “Got a boot full of booze.”  
“Fair enough.” Mitchell settled back with a grin. “Do you do party hats, too?”  
Anders shifted gears rather forcefully. “People here in general do that, with Christmas crackers and all that crap, but the day you’ll see me wearing a party hat is the day they carry me out feet first.”

Mitchell couldn’t suppress a chuckle at the thought of Anders with a pink and green party hat, but he managed to keep himself contained. Then he looked out of the window and gasped.

“Shit, Anders!”  
Anders almost did a full brake and his head snapped around. “The fuck!”  
“What is that?” Wide-eyed, his shades fallen into his lap, Mitchell pointed out of the window and towards a small grassed area they were just passing and a tree in the middle of it.  
“Jesus fucking Christ, Mitch, it’s a fucking tree!”  
“But...” Mitchell shook his head. “What is it?”

Anders pulled to the side and let his head drop onto the steering wheel. “It’s a motherfucking goddamn tree, Mitch,” he groaned. “Don’t do that when I’m driving, I almost had us end up on the pavement!”  
“Sorry...” Mitchell undid his seatbelt and slid out of the car. “Look at that...”

Shaking his head, Anders killed the engine and got out as well. Mitchell was staring at the tree with a cosy looking little bench below. The tree was aflame with delicate red flowers.

 

“Look at that...” Mitchell whispered. “It’s bloody amazing.” He looked at Anders who was unimpressed by the sight he had every year around this time of year.  
“Yeah, that’s a pōhutukawa tree,” said. “New Zealand Christmas tree. Strange, really, they do it every year at Christmas.”  
“You,” Mitchell said pointedly. “Have no sense whatsoever for the beauty of nature.”  
“I,” Anders replied likewise pointedly and closed his hands around Mitchell’s belt to pull him close. “Have an excellent sense of aesthetics, otherwise we wouldn’t be here having this conversation.”  
Mitchell smiled at him and closed both hands around Anders’s hips. “I’m flattered.”  
“However,” Anders went on, let go of Mitchell’s belt and ignored the vampire’s puzzled, mildly disappointed look. “Your talk about the beauty of nature begs the question of how you can appreciate beauty so much and then dress like that.”

Mitchell stared at him, his mouth agape. “You bloody asshole...” He muttered.  
Anders closed the car door and stuck his head out of the window. “You coming?”  
Mitchell crossed his arms and glowered. “Why do you even want me along if my wardrobe freaks you out? You should be ashamed and embarrassed of being seen with me in public.”

Anders sunk back into his seat, and after a moment of shaking his head, he got out again. 

Mitchell still had his arms crossed. His eyebrows were still drawn together. 

“Mitchell...”

“Maybe you should just give me a lift home.”

“Mitch...”

“I wouldn’t want to embarrass you.” Venom was dripping from every word.

“John.” Anders plucked his shades off his nose and shoved then into the front pocket of his shirt.

Mitchell dropped his arms. 

“John.” Anders looked at him, eyes unshielded by the dark glasses. “We’ve long since established that our dress codes don’t match.”  
“And you still keep taking the piss like that.”  
“And you keep telling me I always look as if I wear a tie because I don’t have a dick.”

They stared mutely at each other.

“John.” Anders took a step forward, a small smile on his face. “You know I never let a chance pass me by to take the piss. You know I don’t mean it like that, do you?”  
Mitchell crossed his arms again.  
“Do you?” Anders swallowed and the smile vanished. “If I was embarrassed to be seen with you in public why would I take you out to dinner? Or go for a beer?”  
“Beats me.” Mitchell took a step back. “Maybe you’re slumming?”

Anders looked at him, eyes narrowing. “Mitch, I’ve made that joke a hundred times already. Why today? Why now?”  
“Because I thought that maybe, at least when it’s Christmas, you keep your rat-ass jokes to yourself?”

Anders dropped his head, and when he looked up again, his expression had turned from annoyed to contrite. “I don’t know what Christmas would have to do with it but... I’m sorry.”  
Mitchell dropped his arms with a heavy sigh. “I don’t know why I put up with this shit.”  
“Well, why do you?” Anders was visibly keeping himself from grinding his teeth.

The smile returned to Mitchell’s face and he squeezed Anders’s butt as he passed him on his way back to the car. “Must be because that fucking tongue of yours is too good at doing other things as well,” he said with a wink.  
Anders visibly sagged in relief. “Am I forgiven then?”  
Mitchell adjusted his shades. “Only if you put that tongue to a really good use later on.”  
The smirk on Anders’s face was all the answer Mitchell needed.

* * *

The slightly strained atmosphere at their arrival at Ty’s house had been immediately turned into merriment after Anders had emptied the two bags he had lugged in. Several kinds of vodka, whiskey and other various spirits, plus a bottle or expensive Rosé that he handed to Dawn with a flourish. 

“You want my present now or later?” He asked Mitchell after the drinks were handed round.  
“You got a present for me?” Mitchell put his glass of whiskey down. “Really?”  
Anders moistened his lips with a flick of his tongue. “It’s not much, really...”  
“Yeah.... same here.” Mitchell smiled and winked. “Me first, though.”

Then he took the bag he had brought with him and vanished into the bathroom. Anders stared at the door that had closed behind him with a frown.

When Mitchell emerged again Anders had relocated from the kitchen counter that now served as bar towards the sofa in the living room. Upon seeing Mitchell, however, he almost spilled his drink. He slowly got up.

“Like it?” Mitchell said as he leaned against the doorframe.

The ratty, old, washed-out blue jeans had been replaced by black denim that looked as if it was painted on. A grey silk dress shirt with the topmost button undone, and a black leather waistcoat that wasn’t buttoned up at all. His hair was smoothed back a little, and the knitted gloves that Anders so hated were gone.

“Stop eating him with your eyes, Anders.” Ty shook his head with a smile. “It’s embarrassing.”  
“Fuck off,” Anders whispered. Then he took a few steps towards the god of sex leaning in the doorframe. “You humble me, babe.”  
“I do?” Mitchell’s victorious smirk made him look even more irresistible. 

Anders moistened his lips again, and his facial expression was now a rather unhappy mix of embarrassment and discomfort. 

“Hey.” Mitchell uncrossed his arms. “What’s the matter?”  
After a moment, Anders managed a smile, but it wasn’t very happy. “You see...” He ran both hands through his hair. “I only got you a... kind of... I only got you a gag gift and this...” He indicated his hand towards Mitchell and his new attire. “This makes it look... more crude than funny.”  
“Which pretty much sums up your entire existence,” Mike said with a chuckle.

Anders spun around, murder in his eyes. But before he could say anything, Mitchell had positioned himself between the two, facing Anders.

“I know we agreed on no presents, so I kinda cheated. Well... it isn’t really a present now, is it? I just changed my wardrobe.”  
Anders was able t smile again. “That sight is a gift, Mitch.”

“Aaawwwwww....” Axl said.  
“Fuck off,” Anders said to him around Mitchell before looking at his vampire again. “So.”  
“So?”  
“You still want that little shit-ass thing I bought?”  
“Absolutely.”  
“It’s in the car.” Anders shook his head as he left. 

It was wrapped in plain gift paper without boughs or anything fancy. 

“Bought it online,” Anders said. He was almost cringing. 

With raised eyebrows, Mitchell picked the paper apart, to reveal a T-shirt.

The colour could be described as something between neon yellow and lime green. And on the front was a print. Mitchell unfolded it, and Anders could no longer meet his eyes.

**Gorgeous man in an ugly T-Shirt**

If he hadn’t been dead already, Mitchell would have suffocated from laughter.

* * *

Mitchell was still chuckling when Mike announced dinner, but he stopped when he realised that no one had manned the kitchen.

“Outside,” Anders said with a sunny smile.  
“Outs... yeah, right.” Mitchell found his smile again. “’cause it’s in the middle of summer right now. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that no matter how long I’ll live here.”  
“And I guess when you’re waiting for a roast with all the trimmings you’ll never get used to this, either.”

Mitchell ran a hand through his hair and gave Anders an unhappy look. “A barbecue? Are you serious?”  
“It’s summer, as you pointed out.” Anders dragged him outside and handed him a plate. “Now grab yourself a sausage and a beer and I won’t tell you that Santa wears speedos and doesn’t bring candy canes but steaks for the barbie.”

Mitchell looked at the plate, at Mike who was manning the grill wearing a Christmas hat, and at the cooler with the beer.

“Happy Christmas!” Anders handed him a bottle.  
Mitchell took it, shrugged, and twisted off the cap.

* * *

The levels in the various bottles had been lowered considerably. It took the Johnsons a while to realise that they hadn’t seen either Mitchell or Anders in a while.

“Where’s Anders?” Axl asked, tongue a little heavy.  
“Went to the bathroom,” Mike gave back and emptied his glass.  
Dawn stared into her own glass, blinking slowly. “That was, like, twenty minutes ago. Has he fallen into the toilet?”  
“More like passed out in the shower,” Mike said and got up.

“Hey!” He yelled, banging on the bathroom door. “Anders, you all right?”  
“He really can’t talk right now!” Mitchell’s voice, muffled by the door, was a little breathless.

“Fuck...” Ty buried his face in both hands, then looked up again and yelled: “Not in my FUCKING BATHROOM!”

“We’re not fucking in your bathroom!” Mitchell yelled back.

Ty was about to make another reply, but he had to come to Dawn’s aid instead who was laughing so hard she about to fall from the couch.


	13. Britchell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tigerliliesandcherryblossoms 
> 
> Perhaps Mitchers New Year's celebration counting down til Midnight old norse & irish traditions optional? 
> 
> This is the continuation of the previous chapter's prompt

Lugging the two heavy shopping bags into the kitchen, Anders was greeted by eighties rock blaring from the stereo and Mitchell singing along, his voice coming from the bathroom. Ander shook his head with an affectionate smile and then recognized the smell of cleaning detergent and freshly baked bread, with a still steaming loaf sitting on a large plate on the kitchen counter.

His kitchen was spotlessly clean. There wasn’t a single crumb around the toaster. Any limestone residuals were removed from the kettle. With one eyebrow cocked, Anders opened the fridge. Someone, and he didn’t have to ask himself who, had even emptied the vegetable compartment and cleaned everything. The floor had been swept and mopped.

In the dining area, it was the same. The glass table had been wiped down to a spotless brightness. Even the sofa had been vacuumed. 

“Mitch?” Anders leaned into the doorframe of the bathroom and watched Mitchell clean the mirror. By now, he had gotten used to him not having a mirror image and had to admit that right now that fact was an advantage.  
Mitchell turned around and smiled. “Hey! You’re back already!”  
“Yeah... and... what the fuck are you doing?”  
Mitchell gave the mirror a last critical look and moved on to the toilet. “How does it look like?”  
“It looks like you’re cleaning, but it also looks like as if some sort of housewife salvation army delegation will be coming to check if we actually are able to eat from the floor.”

Mitchell took the toilet brush with a laugh. “Nah. It’s only because it’s New Year’s Eve.”  
Anders lifted both eyebrows. “What the fuck has the fact that it’s New Year’s Eve to do with the fact you’re wearing marigolds and are trying to crawl into my toilet to clean it?”  
Mitchell straightened up and brushed a strand of hair from his face with the back of his hand. “You start the new year with a clean house!”

“Oh.” Anders pushed himself away from the doorframe. “Is that something Irish?”  
“You bet it is.” Mitchell was beaming at him, and with the marigolds and the toilet brush he looked as if he had hopped right out of an advert for cleaning products. Anders shook his head again. “I’ll just leave you to it then.”  
“And keep your hands off the bread!”

Which wasn’t actually an easy feat, Anders discovered. It was fresh and warm, just warmer than his hand, and it smelled heavenly. As someone who bought packed, pre-sliced bread for convenience’s sake, having a fresh, home baked loaf sitting in his kitchen made him feel as if he was part of a nativity scene. 

He did keep his hand to himself after touching it reverently. But he was sorely tempted. 

Anders was more than hesitant to make himself a coffee because it meant the kitchen wouldn’t be spotlessly clean anymore which seemed to mean the world to Mitchell. He wondered when the last time had been the Irishman had been able to indulge in the traditions he had grown up with. And with a sigh, he postponed his thirst for coffee for when they would arrive at the party. 

A party, thrown by Gunderson, of all people, for all the gods and their respective spouses. Which so happened to be gods as well, apart from Dawn. And Mitchell of course. As to why Gunderson felt the need to host the New Year’s Party, Anders could only guess that he wanted to get into everyone’s good books. 

After one last, longing look at the bread, Anders shrugged off his jacket and headed for the bedroom. The things he did for his vampire lover amazed him every now and then. And so, while Mitchell was mopping the floor in the bathroom, Anders dusted down every surface in the bedroom after changing the bedclothes, and afterwards vacuumed the carpet very thoroughly. 

Mitchell entered the bedroom, and when Anders looked up, just as he switched off the vacuum cleaner, the Irishman gave him a really soft and almost lovesick smile.

“Thank you,” he said in a low voice.  
Anders stowed the vacuum cleaner back in the cupboard. “What for?”  
“For helping me.”  
“Helping you clean?” Anders rolled his sleeves back down. “It’s my place, you know.”

Mitchell crossed the distance between them and slung his arms around Anders’s middle. “But you’d not have thought about giving the bedroom a good sweep without me, would you?”  
Anders took a deep breath, but at the way Mitchell smiled at him, he had to admit defeat. “No.”

The kiss was warm and full of affection.

* * *

Mitchell was wearing the outfit he had presented Anders with at Christmas, the black silk shirt and the leather waistcoat, and Anders positioned himself between him and Michelle for the rest of the evening after the goddess began to undress Mitchell with her eyes.

“So,” Mitchell asked the collective Johnsons who had gathered outside in a group to wait for the countdown. “What Norse New Year’s traditions are there?”  
“Well whatever they are, they certainly don’t involve running through the house banging on the walls and the doors with a loaf of bread,” Anders said with a frown as he took a sip of his Vodka Martini.  
“It’s to drive the bad luck out and invite good spirits in!” Mitchell said with a defensive edge to his words.  
“In what category do you fall then?” Anders asked with a smirk.

Mitchell glowered, always an impressive sight with the mussed hair and the dark eyebrows.

“Well, actually...” Gunderson joined the group with a glass in his hand. “In times gone by, and admittedly in a land far from here, the darkest time of the year was considered the time the Wild Hunt is at its greatest fervour, and the dead are said to range the Earth. The god Odin is the leader of this Wild Ride; charging across the sky on his eight-legged horse, Sleipnir; and in those times, the children would leave their boots out by the hearth on Solstice Eve, filled with hay and sugar, for Sleipnir's journey. In return, Odin would leave them a gift for their kindness.”

“That bit with the boots filled with gifts sounds awfully familiar,” Ty remarked.  
“So we should all put the boots out now?” Mitchell grinned at Anders over the rim of his whiskey tumbler.  
“Feel free.” Anders took a sip of his drink. “I’m keeping my shoes and socks to myself and Odin can ride wherever the fuck he wants. Hang on...” He looked at his youngest brother with raised eyebrows. “That means you’re Santa, right?”  
“Fuck you, Anders,” Axl said pointedly. “And I’m riding nowhere in this cold.”  
“Maybe you feel differently about the issue when you’re Odin for real,” Gunderson said with a small grin and lifted his glass. “Skål.”

Shortly after, they all agreed on a single time and started the countdown into the New Year. And with the beginnings of the fireworks, the best wishes were accompanied by a lot of hugging and backslapping. 

“Back in Ireland we would all leave the house now through the backdoor,” Mitchell said and put his empty glass down onto the nearest surface. “And enter again through the front door. Brings good luck.”  
“Could be worse,” Anders said.  
“By all means!” Gunderson rubbed his hands. “I’ll never say no to a bit of good luck!” And he herded the whole party out of and around the house.

“Is there anything to consider when re-entering the house?” Gunderson opened the door.  
“Well...” Mitchell smoothed his hair back and suddenly, looked very self-conscious and more than a little embarrassed, as if he had just realised he had dropped a major brick. “Apart from the fact that you always have to step through the doorframe with your right foot first... uhm. It’s actually quite important who the first person is to enter the house, you know? If it’s a red-haired girl, it means bad luck and a lot of labour for the new year.”  
“And what would mean good luck?” Axl asked with a bright smile.

Mitchell fidgeted.

“Come on, Mitch, you started it,” Anders said and elbowed him in the ribs.

“Uhm.” Mitchell sported an embarrassed little smile. “A tall, dark and handsome man?”

Anders stared at him for a second before he burst out laughing. He was quickly joined by good-natured chuckles from the others. 

“Christ, Mitch, are you for real?”  
“I didn’t make it up!” Mitchell combed his fingers through his hair again. “Honestly!”  
“Well what are you waiting for then?” Gunderson grinned broadly and stood aside. “Be my guest!”

Mitchell straightened the front of his shirt and stepped through the door.


	14. Britchell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gepettowoman  
> Britchell Fluff: Mitchell and Anders at a party. Mitchell finally gets Anders to dance with him in public. Neither one gives a crap that the bros are watching.
> 
> The Song is [_Tenerife Sea_](tenerife%20sea%20ed%20sheeran) by Ed Sheeran 
> 
> This is the continuation from the previous chapter's prompt

After everyone had entered the house again, Gunderson had handed out more drinks and then simply left the bar open. Michelle had found the stereo and now the party was accompanied by a backdrop of pleasantly calm music. 

Mitchell and Anders watched Ty and Dawn dance, both of them lost in each other’s eyes. 

“This is so sweet I just...” Anders started.  
“Throw up a little in your mouth, yeah,” Mitchell said, taking a sip of whiskey.  
Anders looked up at him. “Predictable, am I?”  
Mitchell licked his lips and weighed his head. “Pretty much. Most times.”  
“Most times?” Anders looked at him over the rim of his glass. “Not always?”  
“That’s what I said, wasn’t it?” Mitchell put his tumbler down onto the table next to him and pried Anders’s glass out of slightly resisting fingers. “Dance with me?”

“Dance?” Anders snorted under his breath. “You serious?”  
“Actually...”  
“Mitch...” Anders rolled his eyes. “I can’t dance to save my life. I’ll be the laughingstock of the whole party and never hear the end of this.”  
“And do you actually give a shit?”  
Anders opened his mouth, stared at Mitchell for a moment, and closed it again.

Mitchell took one of Anders’s hands, dark eyes warm and shimmering which made Anders think of whiskey and a crackling fire in the hearth. His smile softened and he imperceptibly shook his head. And after another tug, he followed Mitchell towards the centre of the room. 

And as if on cue, Ed Sheeran started playing. 

Smiling a little crookedly, Anders closed his hands around Mitchell’s and moved closer.

_We are surrounded by all of these lies_  
_And people who talk too much_  
_You got the kind of look in your eyes_  
_As if no one knows anything but us_

Their bodies closing in, their eyes met and locked. They were hardly moving to the slow, soft rhythm of the song, and their fingers entwined like intricate Celtic knot work.

Anders looked up into the eyes the colour of whiskey, firelight and chocolate, and moved closer. He wasn’t smiling, and only blinked very slowly, his eyes never leaving Mitchell’s.

_Should this be the last thing I see_  
_I want you to know it's enough for me_  
_'Cause all that you are is all that I'll ever need_

After a moment neither of them could measure Mitchell unlaced their fingers and gently ran his hands up Ander’s arms until they came to rest on his shoulders. Anders closed his hand around Mitchell’s hips, who lowered his head, black curls falling forward and framing his face. There was a hardly perceptible sheen of moisture clouding his eyes. 

You look so beautiful in this light  
Your silhouette over me  
The way it brings out the blue in your eyes  
Is the Tenerife Sea

The way their bodies touched, hips and thighs and arms, was nothing hot or arousing; it was warm, sensual and almost shy, as if they touched for the very first time. Simultaneously they leaned forward until their foreheads touched. Both had their eyes closed now.

_And all of the voices surrounding us here_  
_They just fade out when you take a breath_  
_Just say the word and I will disappear_  
_Into the wilderness_

They were the only ones dancing now; and while they were completely oblivious of their audience, both of them wouldn’t have given a crap about who was watching them. 

Mitchell leaned back again and they both opened their eyes, sapphire light meeting smoky darkness. He let his hands slide up Ander’s neck and brushed his thumbs across the jaw line that was covered with pale, reddish stubble. 

_Should this be the last thing I see_  
_I want you to know it's enough for me_  
_'Cause all that you are is all that I'll ever need_

Cradling Anders’s face in his hands Mitchell leaned forward and they shared a single breath before their lips touched, softly, gently, tender; a gentle caress that was so unlike from the way they usually kissed. Anders’s hands moved from Mitchells his towards his lower back.

_I'm so in love, so in love_  
_So in love, so in love_

When they broke the kiss they hardly moved away from each other, their breathing caressing each other’s cheek. And when they, after a moment, leaned back after all there was a soft little smile playing around Mitchell’s lips, a smile that Anders returned. 

_Should this be the last thing I see_  
_I want you to know it's enough for me_  
_'Cause all that you are is all that I'll ever need_

They didn’t break eye contact, not before the last notes of the song had faded away. And even that took a moment to filter through their minds and into their consciousness. 

Still both unaware and not caring of the others they stepped apart, and with Mitchell’s arm draping around his shoulder, Anders slung one arm around Mitchell’s hips and they headed for the terrace doors without making a conscious decision about it. 

“Now I’ve seen everything,” Ty muttered while shaking his head.

All eyes in the room had followed the two outside. They were all but clinging to each other, lost in a kiss.

“Rightfully, one of them should propose now,” Mike added with a small, crooked grin. 

One of Anders’ hand stopped roaming Mitchell’s back and, very slowly and pointedly and without breaking the kiss, he flipped Mike a bird before resuming what he was doing.

* * *

Neither Mitchell nor Anders was anywhere near sober after crawling out of the taxi somewhere during the early afternoon at New Year’s Day. It had been a very long night.

Anders fumbled with the key, cursing under his breath. 

“Stupid fuckstick,” he snarled, and finally, the door opened. Anders stepped away from the door and held out an arm. “After you, Mr Tall, Dark, and Handsome.”

Mitchell grinned and more staggered than stepped through the door.

“I think,” Anders said after he had dropped his keys and abandoned picking them up as a lost cause. “I think... no... I’m sure that somewhere in the world it is considered good practice to start the New Year with a good fuck on every available surface.”  
Mitchell looked at him, swaying slightly. “You are too hammered to get it up, Anders.”  
Anders glared up at him.  
“And so am I,” Mitchell said and draped an arm around Anders’s shoulders. “But that doesn’t have to stop us from trying, right?”

After tottering towards the bedroom they somehow made it into bed without injuries.

They both were out cold the moment they hit the mattress.


End file.
